


Too Good to Be True

by Faustess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Childhood Memories, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Friendships, Diners, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friday is a good bro, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Literal Sleeping Together, Lonely Bucky Barnes, M/M, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pancakes, Past Child Abuse, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Restaurants, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:02:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: There was a reason, though that he worked sixteen-hour days – money being just part of it. The less free time he had, the less time he had to wonder about what happened to him before he got here. Less time to contemplate the meaning of his dreams.The Winter Soldier doesn't remember much at all.   Just fragments of someone else's life in long cryo-dreams.  That is, until someone wakes him up for real.





	1. A Is for ABBA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's never met their fourth housemate - just knows that he's a friend of Natasha's like he and Tony are.

Steve stalked toward the kitchen, shoulders squared and ready for a fight. He didn’t care how close this guy was to Natasha, enough was enough. Three nights in the past week he’d been woken up somewhere between three and four in the morning by ABBA blasting in the kitchen.

Other than good cooking smells and bad taste in music, there was almost no other evidence the guy even lived there. Steve had walked past once when the door to the guy’s room was open. No posters, no clothes on the floor. Nothing on top of the dresser or on the desk. Just a navy blue blanket on the bed and a pillow. _Seriously, what the hell?_ Who lives like that?

Well, this was going to be the end of it. No prancing twink and his goddamn disco music was gonna keep waking Steve Rogers up in the middle of the night and not get his ass handed to him. Steve’s jaw set in a tense line, a scowl darkening his features.

He stormed around the corner and into the kitchen, then skidded to a halt. Natasha sat on the kitchen counter running her fingers through the hair of a guy almost as big as Steve. So... not some twink.... The guy wore sweatpants slung low on his hips and a ratty t-shirt. His longish brown hair looked unkempt, but that could just be from Natasha carding her fingers through it.

Steve could see Natasha speaking, but couldn’t hear her. Bowls, pans, aluminum foil and various ingredients littered the kitchen table and the rest of the countertop.

Unsure what kind of a moment he was interrupting, Steve said, “You’re up late Nat – whatchya making?”

As Steve moved to turn down the music, Natasha shook her head. “Nothing. My brother’s the cook.”

Looking them both up and down, Steve rolled his eyes, “Brother. _Sure…_ ”

Natasha shot him an icy glare, “Why bother asking if you’re not going to believe me anyway?”

Steve shrugged and poked around the dishes tented with foil.

He could hear the guy, who he still had yet to be introduced to, muttering, “Mne bol'no, Natka.” _It hurts, Natka._

She murmured, “Ya znayu, Yashenka.” _I know, Yashenka._ Natasha swatted Steve’s hand with a spatula. “Leave it, Rogers.” As though Steve were a dog or a particularly naughty child.

He tried to joke, “Thought I’d take a couple as payment for waking me up with the bad music.”

The guy turned to glare at him, his blue-grey eyes filled with something ferocious that Steve hadn’t ever seen outside of TV or maybe on the football field. _Or maybe not…._ Steve wisely retracted his hand.

At the sound of a key turning in the lock signaling the arrival of their remaining housemate, the guy Natasha claimed was her brother straightened up and started dishing up pancakes and setting the table with only three place settings – until Natasha poked him - and he grudgingly set fourth place.

Tony Stark walked into the kitchen and dropped his messenger bag on the floor, “Honey, I’m home!” Natasha blew him a kiss, but it was clear – even to Steve who could be dense about these things – that Tony was talking more to the guy. Grinning, he said, “Oooo! Pancakes! They those maple pecan ones that I love? The ones that I keep telling you are the best, so stop tinkering and leave well enough alone – hint, hint?”

The guy gestured with the spatula to Tony’s spot. He didn’t smile, but some of the tension seemed to have relaxed away. He shook his head, “Cinnamon,” and moved on to fry eggs now that everyone had arrived.

Sitting at the table, Tony propped his elbows on either side of his plate, “Looks fantastic. Food looks pretty good too,” and winked at the cook.

The guy rolled his eyes and snorted, sounding annoyed, but none of the tension returned. Just the response that Stark expected then...

Continuing, Stark asked, “So what’s today’s nametag say?” Catching a plastic restaurant nametag, Tony read aloud, “Alonzo?” He looked up as the eggs were delivered. “Yeah, I guess you could pass for an Alonzo.”

Even Natasha looked impressed with the cinnamon swirl pancakes drizzled with a powdered sugar glaze. She waited to eat, though, until her brother finished cooking the eggs (his and Natasha’s scrambled, Steve’s sunny side up, and Tony's over-easy).

Natasha hummed appreciatively, “Good,” before continuing to cut her breakfast food into neat squares.

Tony cut a piece with the side of his fork and tasted experimentally before moaning with pleasure. “Oh my god! These are great!”

Steve might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, but Nat’s brother very nearly smiled. The lines on his forehead smoothed and his jaw relaxed, expression both confident and pleased – he knew the food was good, but was glad Tony liked it too.

Natasha bumped Steve with her elbow, “Go ahead…”


	2. B Is for Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever it hurt too much, Natka would run her fingernails over his scalp gently and that gave him something else to focus on other than the pain. Sometimes the pain stabbed through his temples and up through the base of his skull. Other times, it started in his left shoulder like an ice pick stabbing, stabbing there until it finally made his entire arm either numb or left it with a burning pain over all the skin – each touch agony.
> 
> Aw, Soldier... it's gonna get worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super short chapter just so everyone knows it's not all angsty Steve-college-frat-guy-whatevering... cause it's not. Poor Bucky. :<

The comfortable chatter around the kitchen table blurred from one night into another. The restaurants he worked in (an all-night Brooklyn diner and a hipster start-up brunch place) found his penchant for collecting nametags funny and indulged him. Natka told him that James Barnes was a safe identity to use for job applications, and he now even had a driver’s license and social security card. All above-board – _how about that?_

Still, outside the life of a short order cook, he didn’t know many people. Distanced himself from pretty much everyone except Natka. She’d helped him escape. He couldn’t remember exactly from where, but sometimes the nightmares that woke him ended in blood and death. Sometimes his, sometimes others.

He knew his grasp on reality was tenuous at best. He lost time. The whole ‘can’t remember much of anything before moving into this ramshackle row house’ with Natka and her friends spoke volumes. Even so, overall, he felt content - in spite of the pain.

Whenever it hurt too much, Natka would run her fingernails over his scalp gently and that gave him something else to focus on other than the pain. Sometimes the pain stabbed through his temples and up through the base of his skull. Other times, it started in his left shoulder like an ice pick stabbing, stabbing there until it finally made his entire arm either numb or left it with a burning pain over all the skin – each touch agony.

There was a reason, though that he worked sixteen-hour days – money being just part of it. The less free time he had, the less time he had to wonder about what happened to him before he got here. Less time to contemplate the meaning of his dreams.

What he’d been able to gather so far was that he and Natka were not blood relatives. He thought they grew up in the same foster home. That sounded right – or close anyway. Her red hair stood out even then. He knew she’d helped him get away from there. Helped him find a job. Kept him safe.

Tony and Steve were her friends. Both very different. Steve liked her and was _interested_ , but didn’t say so. Tony _said_ he was interested, but something in Stark’s body language led to the conclusion that it was all a kind of flirting game – without meaning. He could trust her friends – even the blonde one who hated him.

The nightmares, though… some seemed so real…. Shooting people in the throat, blowing up cars, buildings…. Those weren’t pleasant, made his skin crawl, but the bad ones... The ones that woke him up were worse – being sprayed with a firehose, left to hang by his wrists – the very end of his tiptoes providing the only relief for the joints in his arms…. Others were even worse. Being strapped down and operated on, electrical shocks….

The good dreams weren’t really much better. Dreams about disassembling and reassembling weapons, cleaning them. Others about watching through a rifle scope for hours until the right moment for his shot. He knew enough from listening to other people’s conversations that normal people didn’t have dreams like that.


	3. C Is for Cryo-dreams and Combat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony repulsor-rayed a hole in the floor under an agent with a flamethrower. Just another day at the office for Tony Stark, raiding HYDRA bases, looking for Steve’s long-lost bestie. Who Steve’d managed to lose _right outside the bunker_ after their fight in Siberia to a HYDRA hit squad determined to bring their Asset back home.
> 
> Hadn’t been awkward at all. _Noooo._

He let himself wake first before opening his eyes, taking a mental inventory of himself. The pain was more of an overall throb for the moment. The cold though… His body shivered, and he needed to keep his tongue between his teeth to keep them from clacking together as they chattered uncontrollably.

Kept his eyes closed a moment longer, finally recognizing the cold for what it was. Being brought out of cryo. The past-its-prime rowhouse and its familiar kitchen, the job, the housemates all just cryodreams. _Again._ That was why he could never taste the food, why he never saw himself eat either – even when he wasn’t himself in the dream. In the dreams, though, his mind rationalized those kinds of discrepancies away.

He opened his eyes when he heard the hiss of the cryo chamber’s seal releasing. Strange that no one had started jerking him out yet. They usually couldn’t wait. Would he come out docile? Aggressive? Didn’t matter – they were always ready to tear him down, wipe away the dreams. Promote _compliance_. His lips twitched with a repressed snarl.

Opening the cryo chamber’s fogged-up door slowly, silently, he surveyed the room. Single combatant. Armed with regulation body armor. Nothing enhanced. No shock baton either. Those stung. Made him flinch. He _hated_ them and the handlers who used them.

His bare feet and loose cotton clothing made almost no sound as he stepped out of the chamber, looking at the wall behind the chamber to make sure no one had foolishly decided to start storing weapons there. _No such luck._ The soldier concentrating on the doorway and the hall beyond though, had the tentacled symbol of HYDRA on his sleeve, insignia above his pocket indicating officer status.

The unarmed man silently crept closer until he was able to get a grip on the officer’s chin and twist, breaking the HYDRA goon’s neck. He guided the body to the floor as soundlessly as possible. The uniform would be too small, but the weapons would be helpful.

 _‘According as circumstances are favorable, one should modify one’s plans.’_ He found electrical tape in the room and used it to secure the smaller weapons at his ankles. He left the comm pack. Those probably had tracking software in them. The security badge was worth the risk, though. Checking the rifle briefly, he determined it’d work, but he had little patience for people who didn’t maintain their weapons properly. Minded even less that he’d killed HYDRA’s minion.

Stepping out into the hall, he could see the alarm lights flashing, but no audible alarm. Either someone breaking in disabled it or… someone inside triggered a silent alarm? From here though, he had no memory of the building’s layout. It was all confused with other blueprints, building plans, mission documentation.

Right then… turn right and move forward. Quickly, but quietly – avoiding the slap of bare feet on linoleum tile. He figured this area was probably lab space – few doors, but long hallways. Still, the eerie quiet set him on edge.

Moving through the base, he found a stairwell and began making his way up. He only encountered one small squad of HYDRA agents. The one with the shock batons hadn’t known how to use them. _‘Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.’_

He continued to the next level and looked through the reinforced glass in the stairwell doorway. Seems like someone must’ve been talking about fire code violations near the cryo chamber, because that’s the first thing that came to mind when he saw the glass. He could hear the conflict coming from this floor.

Opening the door cautiously, he scanned the corridor. Directional sign for the cafeteria. Main level. Comm Room probably on the other side of the building. Picked up a comm from one of the fallen HYDRA minions in the hallway and listened in moved in the direction of the comm room. He hoped this was the building that had the comm room near the security office behind the main reception area. Some of the buildings didn’t have traditional roofs.

He could feel the stabbing pain starting behind his eyes and stepped into a custodial closet. Checked his weapons and ammunition. Heard a burst of static in the comm, then a panicked, “We’ve lost the Asset! Repeat! The Asset is on the move!”

He tried changing the comm link’s channel, but couldn’t pick up any other chatter. The pain in his head was growing steadily worse the ice pick sensation growing until it felt like someone was pounding six-inch nails into the inside corners of his eyes.

Unsure of how long he had before the pain got too bad to focus effectively, he made a run for the comm room, ripping the door off its hinges with his metal arm and shooting the occupants. The pain began to ebb, most likely because he had something else immediate to focus on.

 _‘If we do not wish to fight, we can prevent the enemy from engaging us…. All we need to do is throw something odd and unaccountable in his way.’ ‘You may advance and be absolutely irresistible, if you make for the enemy’s weak points.’_ He turned on two microphones and the comm link, letting the high-pitched feedback grow and then increased the volume to maximum. Lots of pained and angry shouting.

Moving to the security office, he saw a red-headed woman in a black tactical jumpsuit. For a fraction of a second, her eyes widened in surprise, “Barnes?” The husky edge to her voice reminding him of something reliable, stable.

“Natka?” The stab behind his eyes returned hard enough to make him reach for the doorframe. From the increasing noise level, the fighting was getting closer nearby. Even if this woman wasn’t the woman in his dream, she didn’t seem like she was supposed to be here. Part of the infiltrating force then. _My enemy’s enemy… is still probably my enemy._ But easier to defeat one enemy at a time.

He leaned the door against the frame, to give the appearance that the security office had been raided and knocked out of commission.

Heard her say, “Hey guys… I’ve got visual on the Soldier. No. He just popped in to say hi. Think he’s headed your way Tony.”

Faintly he could hear, _‘Yeah, I guess you could pass for an Alonzo,’_ followed by the memory? of the same voice, _‘Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. We're on a truce. Put the gun down.’_ That felt important, but the details were hazy.

He peered around the corner. The red and gold of Iron Man’s suit firing disruptor blasts, other weapons he didn’t remember. Then he saw one of the HYDRA agents heft a weapon with a glowing blue light. Without thinking, the Soldier, Barnes, lifted his rifle, aimed, and fired, leaving a neat hole in the center of the agent’s forehead.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tony repulsor-rayed a hole in the floor under an agent with a flamethrower. Just another day at the office for Tony Stark, raiding HYDRA bases, looking for Steve’s long-lost bestie. Who Steve’d managed to lose _right outside the bunker_ after their fight in Siberia to a HYDRA hit squad determined to bring their Asset back home.

Hadn’t been awkward at all. _Noooo._ There’d been the big legal fights. The remunerations for damage caused in Berlin, Bucharest, everywhere…. Total PR nightmare. And the _paperwork…_ \- it just kept coming.

Still, things were improving – after more than a _year_ …. Clint was spending more time with his family, but occasionally came to the Compound to hang out and catch up. Came for the briefing sessions whenever the UN updated the Accords (which seemed like every fucking week, but was probably every other month). No apology, but actually reading the Accords and having intelligent questions during the briefings? Tony could be satisfied with that. And the little agents were growing up. Sometimes Barton brought the family to the Compound – now that they were less of a secret. 

Romanov bounced back the way she always did, but had started buying the coffee he liked before they ran out. She hadn’t apologized, but that wasn’t the way Nat operated either. She worked with Maria Hill, who’d been named director of the Compound, and FRIDAY to short-list candidates, spending hours background-checking everyone they interviewed. Spent time training the female staff on self-defense. The woman worked _hard_ \- from FRIDAY's records, eighty-hour weeks weren't uncommon for N-Ro. The thing he liked about it - other than the good coffee - was that she was trying hard to earn her place. To _deserve_ her place on the team. In Tony's personal opinion, Nat had that covered already by wrangling Rogers and keeping him from doing anything _too_ stupid, but she also needed to stay busy, and with Barton out so often, the work kept her busy.

Sam Wilson had finally gotten Steve to start going to a local veteran’s support group. (Baby steps and small miracles, right?) Wilson also brought back his mother’s cinnamon rolls whenever he visited. Mrs. Wilson made a special pan for Tony and always sent a note along with them – keeping him up-to-date with her book club, Bible study group, and bridge club happenings – always ending with the same line, ‘Can’t do much for you on Social Security, but I want to thank you for keeping Sammy out of trouble, Mr. Stark.’ Tony struggled not to call Wilson ‘Sammy,’ but figured it was worth the trouble to keep that particular relationship going. Mrs. Wilson’s cinnamon rolls – _to die for._

Vision spent most of his time with Wanda, partially because they enjoyed each other’s company, but also to keep an eye on her as she completed her training at the Hogwarts of New York with Dr. Strange. Fingers crossed, but even that seemed like it was off to a bumpy, but positive start.

Peter and a couple of his friends came to visit the Compound from time to time, ‘for science stuff.’ Harley Keener visited during some of his school vacations. It felt so… domestic. Summer and winter breaks were becoming Tony’s favorite times of year.

Overall, all things considered, it wasn’t as bad as Tony’d feared, but it wasn’t great either. He still had daily nightmares about Steve smashing the arc reactor in his suit, dragging Barnes out of the bunker with him. Sometimes it mingled in with the nightmare he’d had when Wanda had manipulated his mind, everyone laying around, dead, Steve gasping out, ‘You could have saved us….’ Now _there_ was a mindfuck. The panic attacks were down to just once or twice a week, though. _Bonus._

Natasha’s voice came over the comm, “Hey guys… I’ve got visual on the Soldier.”

Rogers’ voice eager, hopeful, “In the lab? How far do we have to go?”

Nat replied, “No. He just popped in to say hi. Think he’s headed your way Tony.”

 _Fantastic._ Super. His parents’ murderer coming after him again. _Siberia all over again._ “Thanks for the heads up.” _Goddamn_ these HYDRA guys just spill out of the woodwork like termites… or a clown car. Seriously, where did they keep them all?

Rogers responded, “Just keep him quiet until I get there. Just don’t… Let’s not do Siberia again.” He muted Rogers after that. _Motherfucker! Was that a threat?_ Team-building, my ass. _‘Building bridges of fucking trust.’_ Which inspirational cat poster did you steal that from Rogers?

Tony saw the HYDRA agent lift the weird looking rifle and then saw him drop. “What the?”

Natasha’s voice in his ear, “Soldier’s got your back Tony.”

Tony quipped, “Is it Friday the thirteenth or something? Full moon? Today’s just getting weirder and weirder.” Then he saw Steve running up from the end of the hallway. Well, finally the two centenarians will be reunited. Cue the gossip column rumors about their doomed century-long love affair, blah, blah, blah.

But something bounced in front of Rogers’ boots. A flash grenade exploded. Steve covered his eyes for a split second, Tony’s visor readjusted, and Barnes was standing between him and Rogers. Rifle up, staring down the sight.

“Stoy! Ne dvigajtes'!” _Stop! Don’t move!_ Having FRIDAY translate was possibly the best thing ever. She did voices and everything. Her Irish lilt imitating Barnes’ gruff Russian just might be his new favorite.

“Bucky?” Steve’s confusion and disappointment echoed down the hall.

Steve started to move forward toward his friend, but Barnes fired and a strap from the shoulder of Cap’s uniform fluttered to the ground. _What the hell is this? Some Twilight Zone alternate world where Bucky Barnes was on Tony Stark’s side?_

“You missed. Look, Buck…” Was Rogers seriously using his 'we both know you fucked up' voice? Chastising an _assassin_ when he's got his weapon trained on you? Maybe Cap had that concussion brain damage thing going on....

“Nyet. Na koleny.” _No. On your knees._

Nat’s frustrated voice came through the comm, “Steve, just shut up! Stop. Kneel. Do what he says or he’s **going. to. shoot. you.** ”

Rogers stopped, but wasn’t paying any serious amount of attention to Barnes. He’d turned his head halfway to argue with Natasha.

 _Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands, then._ Tony said, “Stand down Soldier.”

Barnes’ head cocked to the side, as if he heard, but wasn’t sure he should follow that order. The guy’s body language spoke volumes. With his back to Tony it clearly said, _‘The threat’s down there. I can take him out. What’s the issue?’_

Tony unmuted Steve’s comm. He wanted to hear the whole exchange. “Really, Robocop, you can stand down. We’re on the same side here. Put the gun down.”

Slowly, Barnes lowered the rifle to a more relaxed position. Checked the clip, and then tossed the rifle aside. A grimace of pain washed over his face and Barnes rubbed his forehead.

“Headache?” Tony asked.

Barnes nodded.

Relief flooded Steve’s voice, “I knew it had to be…” as he started half-jogging toward them.

BANG! Before Tony could process what had happened, he saw Rogers staring, shield raised in front of him, spent bullet at his feet. Barnes had a hand gun he’d pulled from somewhere. Where did he hide it in those institutional pjs?

“What the –” Steve stammered.

In her annoyed, patient voice, Natasha said, “Steve… think about what happened right before you lost him…. What were you doing?”

Rogers huffed, irritated, “Saving him from Stark, Nat.”

Tony opened his mouth to argue, or at least frame the altercation differently for their memory-challenged friend, but Barnes beat him to it, “Nyet. Ty pytalsya yego ubit'.” _No. You tried to kill him._

Huh. _A dream maybe? Watching too much Dr. Who?_ How was this Tony Stark’s life now? No complaints, honestly, but high on the ‘what the fucking hell?’ scale. Well, if they wanted to get out of here, Tony needed to intervene. Again. “Let’s argue about this on the way home?”

Wilson confirmed, “Explosives planted. Falcon out.”

Tony looked at Barnes, “No killing Rogers.”

The stubborn, semi-murderous expression on the assassin’s face – _was it scarier because he was wearing drawstring-free lounge pants?_ – added an unspoken, ‘Yet.’ to Tony’s sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotations Bucky is remembering are from Sun Tzu's _Art of War_. I'm thinking there's probably some of the US Army officer training combined with the HYDRA training and conditioning that some random things like this would probably stick.
> 
> Anyway, so far so good for our future love-birds, right? What could go wrong? Oh! I did mean to say that this is not a restaurant or diner AU. A little late for that, I know. Sorry!
> 
> Any thoughts?? (I'll admit this might be what I've been doing instead of working on my other things...).


	4. D Is for Drug-induced Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the scans around the small medical room in the large plane similar to the Bus Phil Coulson had for his team, he could see that Jemma Simmons had found an object that was causing Barnes’ headaches, the nosebleed, and loss of consciousness that had finally gotten them out of the HYDRA base, into the plane, and off the ground.
> 
> She and Rogers had probably just been trying to help, to get rid of the thing from where it was buried deep in the Sergeant’s sinus cavity, but shit – the guy’d last been conscious inside a HYDRA facility where he’d been a prisoner off and on for what? seventy-five years give or take? How did they think the guy’d react?
> 
> Warning that Bucky remembers some of the torture he experienced. Nothing too graphic, I don't think, but he's very much panicking at the beginning. If you think that might be too rough for you, skip to below the line break where Tony (and Natasha) are helping him out.

He tried to make sense of what was going on around him. He felt tired, heavy, woozy. A weight pressing down on him. Holding him down. Rage in the dark eyes above him, “Do you remember them?”

“All of them.”

_Mission report 16 December 1991: Mission accomplished in acceptable parameters. Witness neutralized._

Familiar voices… but like hearing through a fish bowl. Like listening through the glass of the cryo-chamber. _Is that what they did?_ “He’s waking up! You’ve gotta give him something else!”

“Your job is to keep him still. Not keep a running commentary, Captain. And for the record, if elephant tranquilizers can’t keep him sedated, nothing else I give him will either. It’s going to hurt, give him this to bite down on.”

He tried to move, felt the shackles and thick leather straps binding him tightly to something. His muscles testing, twitching, but unable to coordinate enough to resist. He could feel something warm and wet dripping next to his ear. Big hands were trying to force a mouthguard between his teeth.

Then they leaned harder on his shoulder. He hadn’t been… _kind…_ to HYDRA’s technicians, so the shoulder needed repair. Hurt. White static behind his eyelids it hurt so much. No, his eyes were open, and it was a light. Screaming… he didn’t recognize the voice, but when there was screaming, it was always him.

The edges of the light flared in different streaks of color and the faces above him shifted, twisting. The masked faces of HYDRA’s surgeons, handlers with tac masks. Laughing, “That’s right, open up. Scream all you want. Never gonna let my favorite toy get away from me.” Hand holding his cheek, keeping his jaw closed on the mouthguard.

Felt the strap over his chest tighten. Too much. _No air._ Trying to push the mouthguard out to breathe. Gagging where it pushed against the soft tissue at the back of his mouth.

“I think he’s having some kind of seizure! His heart rate’s spiking, oxygen low!”

The voice that wanted him to remember. Furious, “What the _fuck_ is going on here?! I go to make our reports to the Powers That Be that we found your guy and I come back to this! Get the fuck off of him Rogers! Have you been tortured? _No?_ Then back the fuck off! Simmons? Frankly, I expected better judgement from you. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

The hands retreated. The pressure on his jaw let up. Stammering voices, one apologizing, one trying to explain, to justify.

Still livid, the voice spat out, “Save it! I don’t care! Don’t want to hear it! _Get out!_ ”

He could hear the door open and close, but that could be a trick. They never left him alone with a handler. The surgical chiefs were just as afraid of him and his ‘outbursts’ as the technicians. He tried to keep the mouthguard in despite the nearly overwhelming reflex to vomit. Could feel his mouth filling with the watery pre-vomit saliva. Pressed himself back into the gurney, trying to show he was complying. Could feel the humiliating sting in his eyes of tears starting. Tears after screaming – always.

The voice was softer now, “It’s ok Barnes. They’re not gonna try any more mid-flight _House MD_ bullshit. Can you go ahead and spit that thing out? Looking at it makes _me_ wanna gag.”

Torn between really wanting to obey that particular order and cautious because he’d been fooled before. He pushed it out of his mouth and then threw up.

His voice a raspy whisper, maybe he damaged his vocal chords again, “Povtornaja kalibrovka ne trebuetsja.” _Recalibration is not needed._ Hoping that this surgeon or another attendant wouldn’t use the shock baton for speaking without a direct order.

A pause, “Recali– Wha–? No, nobody’s getting recalibrated here.” The voice sounded thick.

“I remember all of them.” No sound from the voice. Only silence. He’d said something wrong. Again. He could hear his own voice quieter, with a tremble in it that he hated, “I’m sorry.” He’d only make it worse by begging, but he wanted to.

A loud sigh. “Jesus Christ…” A longer pause. Then finally the voice resumed, “Hey Barnes, I really want to get you out of here… we gonna have any problems if I unbuckle some of these things? I’m thinking maybe **air** might help you breathe a little. Am I the _only_ one this makes sense to? I feel like this is kind of a shit job being the adult on this flight. No offense.” The voice sighed again. “So, I want to hear a yes or no from you Soldier, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good! Great! I need to touch you to get rid of these straps and stuff. Can I do that?”

 _What?_ This _had_ to be a trick. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the jeering faces’ responses to the flicker of hope he felt. “Yes.”

“Awesome, you’re doing great Barnes. Just one more question and we can get going on that. You gonna flip out and start murder punching shit if I let you go?”

His own voice, barely a whisper, “No.”

“All right! Fantastic! Let’s get going on this then. Going to start with this one across your chest, all right. The buckle’s over here on the right. You’re going to feel it get a little tighter for a second so I can pull the pin out of the little thingy. What are the holes on a belt called? Do they have a special name? You know the little plastic thing at the end of a shoelace? That’s called an aglet.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony talked his way through all the buckles and straps, but didn’t have the key for the ankle and wrist restraints (locked fucking shackles!). He wiped the gurney down and rolled a towel to cushion Barnes’ neck. Make the unforgiving stainless steel a little cozier. Or something…

From the scans around the small medical room in the large plane similar to the Bus Phil Coulson had for his team, he could see that Jemma Simmons had found an object that was causing Barnes’ headaches, the nosebleed, and loss of consciousness that had finally gotten them out of the HYDRA base, into the plane, and off the ground.

She and Rogers had probably just been trying to help, to get rid of the thing from where it was buried deep in the Sergeant’s sinus cavity, but shit – the guy’d last been conscious inside a HYDRA facility where he’d been a prisoner off and on for what? seventy-five years give or take? How did they _think_ the guy’d react?

Made Tony sick the way Barnes flinched every time he felt hands. He’d read what they’d been able to dig up. Apparently, Nazis still keep thorough records, so Stark knew what had been done more or less, but… _Well, shit. This really is Bizarro World._ First Barnes defending him from Cap? Now here Tony was feeling literally sick with rage that his parents’ murderer was a shaking bag of panic attacks.

This had to be a whole lifetime’s worth of what-the-fucks. “I need some help getting these things off your wrists and ankles, okay? I’m gonna call my friend Natasha. I think maybe you remember her? That ok if I call her to help? I can do it, but my tools are gonna make a lot of noise and I’m kind of digging the P&Q we’ve got going on here. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent!” He forced some cheer into his voice. “FRIDAY? Can you patch me through to the cockpit?”

“Done, and done Boss.”

“What’s going on back there Stark? I can hear Steve yelling all the way up here.”

“I may have upset the Captain with my foul language again. I’ll be sure to offer my sincerest apologies when I’m done scraping his best friend off the ceiling here. They shot him full of some kind of tranquilizer and were trying to remove the thing that’s giving him the headaches, et cetera, but he woke up and….” Tony took a deep breath and let out a long slow breath. “I’d be forever grateful if you could come back here and unlock the rest of the uh… restraints.”

“Auto-pilot’s already set. On my way.”

Natasha arrived a few minutes later and surveyed the room, her lips pressed together. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at Tony and said, “I’m gonna do you a favor and not tell you what Rogers is saying out there right now.” Still standing near the door, she started talking to Barnes, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, okay Barnes? Maybe we can get coffee next time. Can I come over and take a look? Try to get those cuffs off?”

For the first time since before Tony entered the room, Barnes opened his eyes. “Yes?”

She approached, “Problem?”

“Are you real?”

Natasha started working on the cuff closest to her – his left ankle, “I suppose you’d expect me to say yes, but I’m not sure that’d be very convincing, hm? I don’t know what you remember about me, but I could give you the short version, if you want.”

“Ok.”

Romanov worked around the table, saving the metal arm for last. “I grew up at a school called the Red Room. You… were one of my teachers,” Tony was surprised that she smiled almost fondly. “Sort of a visiting professor.” She brushed the hair off Barnes’ face, away from his eyes. “One night, I couldn’t sleep and got up to get a drink of water – we weren’t supposed to leave our beds after lights out.”

Barnes watched her talk. Was it Tony’s imagination, or was the guy actually starting to relax?

“Did you ever hear the lullaby _‘Tili Tili Bom?’_ ”

“Ja ne znaju.” _I don’t know._

Natasha sang softly,

> Tili-tili-bom  
>  Close your eyes soon.  
>  Someone walks outside the window,  
>  And is knocking on the door.  
> 
> 
> Tili-tili-bom  
>  The night birds are shrieking.  
>  He's already crept into the house  
>  To catch those who do not sleep.  
> 

Tony muttered to himself, “In Soviet Russia, naps take you.”

To Tony’s surprise, Nat laughed, “Kind of sums it up, yeah. Anyway, if any of the small children begged for a song at night, that’s what they got.” She paused, making eye contact with both Barnes and Tony. “It was very dark in the halls. I crept into the kitchen and filled my glass when I noticed someone in the shadows move and I dropped my glass.”

Natasha unlocked the last cuff – the one on the metal arm, helped Barnes sit up, and continued. “You caught the glass without spilling the water and stuffed a plum into my mouth, so I couldn’t scream. You didn’t say anything, just got another plum for yourself and went back to your snack. Never told on me, either – I don’t think you were supposed to be out prowling around either.”

She held his hand for a moment and resumed, “But after that, I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore. I think part of my mind figured since _chudovishhe_ was my friend, I didn’t have anything to worry about.” _The bogeyman…_

“Zasluzhila jeto. Ty dvigalas' kak prizrak.” _Deserved it. You moved like a ghost._ Did Tony imagine it or did grown-up Natasha blush a little because her teacher – the Winter Soldier, no less – gave her a compliment? “Rad, chto ty nastojashhaja Natka.” _I’m glad you’re real Natka._

“Ja rada, chto my nashli tebja Yashenka.” _I’m glad we found you Yashenka._ She smiled, “Come and talk to me any time.”

A few moments later, as Tony walked Barnes to one of the small crew quarters bunks with some extra clothes, he asked, “You really remember that story Natasha told us?”

Barnes shook his head, “Jeto ne bylo vazhnoj chast'ju.” _That wasn’t the important part._

Tony stopped in the hall for a moment, “What convinced you –” He interrupted himself, “The blush – you were watching her reactions.”

A curt nod, then Barnes – no… the Soldier – tapped himself on the chest, “Zamorozhennyi ne glupyi.” _Frozen, not stupid._

“No, I’m impressed… You were kind of a mess back there… So how much is Barnes and how much is the Soldier?” Tony was impressed – mostly by the swift transition between the panic of earlier into the stony front he was face to face with now. Probably something else they drilled into the Soldier.

For a moment, the man next to him looked at him, expressionless, then said, “There’s no one or the other.”

“Huh. Ok. I’ll keep that in mind…” Gesturing to the small cabin, “This is all yours until we land. Clothes in there. Shower’s down the last cube on the right.” Tony paused, “Sorry you had to wake up to all this.”

Barnes shrugged, “Bez muki net nauki.”

FRIDAY dutifully translated in her half-growled imitation of Barnes’ voice, “Without torture there’s no science.”

“What?!”

The assassin looked at him, eyebrow raised slightly.

Tony stammered a bit, “My uh… AI, FRIDAY, translates for me. Say hello beautiful.”

FRIDAY, with her Irish lilt said, “Hello beautiful.”

Tony added, “She translated that last bit as ‘Without torture, there’s no science?’ What the hell?”

Pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, the Soldier shook his head, “Ja ne znaju.” _I don’t know._ “Ukhodi. U menya golova bolit.” _Go away. My head hurts._

“Right. If you need anything, let FRIDAY know.” Walking away, Tony wondered idly if the new arm HYDRA built for Barnes was an improvement on the old one or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is kind of rough for both our heroes. The gist going into this: Bucky wakes up and doesn't know where he is or what's going on and is piecing together bits of different memories to try to make sense of it all. Steve... Let's just say he hasn't come around yet and leave it there for now.
> 
> By the end of the chapter, Bucky's got his mental/emotional walls up again enough to function, though, so we're on the way to clarity and easier reading (I hope!). <3
> 
> (Also, I know that 'Tili Tili Bom' is just a made-up lullaby for a scary movie, but it fit so nicely, that I'm pretending that it's an old song.)  
> The saying that Bucky says at the end roughly means, "It builds character," but FRIDAY translated literally.


	5. E Is for Electronics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people in the Compound called him Barnes, some Sergeant. Rogers called him Bucky, which felt… weird. Familiar, but uncomfortable… like a favorite pair of shoes with a hole in the sole. Natka called him Yasha or Yashenka, which made his chest feel tight, but in kind of a pleasant way.

After the bad beginning, almost anything was an improvement. As long as he stayed calm, the implant – whatever it was – didn’t hurt as much. Maybe had some kind of cortisol or adrenaline triggers?

Dr. Helen Cho met their plane and she and Stark talked for a few minutes. On closer examination, Barnes thought she might have the same kind of earpiece that Stark had to translate. Speaking Russian was a force of habit from years of conditioning, but with so much English buzzing around him, his sentences were starting to become a kind of broken mishmash of the two.

He decided he liked Dr. Cho. She gave him options for his check-up (door open so he could see into the hall). Described all the equipment in the room and told him what the check-up consisted of before she did anything. Let him draw his own blood as long as he followed their procedures. Discussed options for removing the implant that was part of the reason for his headaches.

The next few weeks consisted of lots of testing and minor outpatient surgical procedures. Lots of nightmares afterward. Fewer headaches after the implant was removed. Not pleasant at the time, though. He elected to stay awake for the procedure as Cho extracted the implant with a long flexible tube with a grabbing pincer at the end, guided by thin fiber optic camera. That was what he focused his attention on – the technology and the tools they used for the procedure – rather than the discomfort and pain.

He stayed in a Hulk-proofed room at the Avengers Compound. Rogers had apologized about that and appeared truly upset about it, but it would’ve been stupid of them to let him wander around. He didn’t hold that against them. In some ways, it was familiar. He knew what to expect as a prisoner – even if he was a well-treated one.

He wished he had a window, though. Or a watch so that he could be sure of how much time was going past, so he didn’t have to rely on the people around him for that kind of information. He could see an analog clock on the wall outside his ‘room,’ but he had no way of knowing if it really kept time or not.

Overall, he didn’t have much contact with people outside the few he’d already met. Didn’t offer anything other than brief responses or yes/no answers. _‘It is the business of the general to be quiet and thus ensure secrecy…’_ As FRIDAY said, ‘Done and done.’ That was followed by the general also being _‘Upright and just, and thus he maintains order.’_ Work in progress, that one.

Some people in the Compound called him Barnes, some Sergeant. Rogers called him Bucky, which felt… weird. Familiar, but uncomfortable… like a favorite pair of shoes with a hole in the sole. Natka called him Yasha or Yashenka, which made his chest feel tight, but in kind of a pleasant way.

Sometimes she brought him small gifts – chocolate, some detangler stuff for his hair that smelled like almonds, an electric razor (and a second one after he took apart the first one to see how it worked). He wasn’t entirely sure why she brought them – if it was because of some kind of student-teacher bond she thought they had? maybe because she’d been his friend before HYDRA had wiped him again? Hoping to gain his trust and use him to her advantage? Or, maybe she was just nice? Too soon to tell for sure.

After about six weeks at the Compound, he managed to pick up a Starkpad at the doctor’s office – someone had just left it laying around. Got it back to his room too. Unfortunately, though, he wasn’t able to figure out the password and it locked him out, so he had to settle for taking it apart. This was more of a challenge than the electric razor had been, but time and patience were two things he had plenty of. Tools weren’t, but he could improvise.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony fidgeted in bed. FRIDAY had locked him out of his workshop on Rhodey’s orders to take better care of the Boss. He was supposed to be sleeping, but who could sleep when they could be tinkering (‘glass is half full’ side)… or avoiding nightmares of being beaten to death by someone he’d considered a good friend (decidedly the ‘half full – of whiskey’ side). But… with drinking into oblivion still frowned upon by Pepper, Rhodey, and his good friend, Tony’s liver, that left his mind active, but with very little to do.

Instead, he wandered through the Compound in his pajamas (well more like some lounge pants and a t-shirt). Maybe tea? Bleh… Maybe somebody’d left some cookies or something. The kitchen was deeply dissatisfying. The only thing remotely snackable was a package of pop-tarts leftover from the last time Thor visited. Maybe he could watch some TV. Or….

Tony actually read the post-it note on the fridge, “If anyone finds my Starkpad, please return it. Thanks, Steve.” In tidy block letters at the bottom, Rogers had added, “PS – the old man jokes aren’t funny anymore.”

 _That’s where you’re wrong Cap._ Still, Tony did technically have a babysitter on all the devices in case they or their owners got lost. He asked FRIDAY, “You know where Rogers’ Starkpad is?”

“Of course, Boss.”

When FRIDAY didn’t say anything else to follow up the statement, Tony sighed. “Care to share? What did I do to deserve this? I swear, you and DUM-E are both gonna go to the scariest community college I can find…”

FRIDAY interrupted his rant, “Sergeant Barnes has it.”

“What?! He’s not supposed to have that kind of stuff yet! Hasn’t been cleared for it. Won’t be until we’ve got all the plans for removing those damn trigger words sorted out.”

“I believe he pilfered it," FRIDAY replied.

“Pilfered? Who’s teaching you these words?” Tony asked, vaguely annoyed.

“You did when Colonel Rhodes…”

Tony sighed, “Yeah, yeah… knock it off SnarkBot 10,000. Can you pull up his search history? App use?”

“No search history or app use, Boss.” FRIDAY sounded… _entertained_.

“Well then, what’s the point? Take it just to see if he could get away with it? Testing our security? What’s he doing with it?” Tony was already on his way down there. Whether or not he called anyone else depended on what exactly was going on. The chamber was Hulk-proof after all and he doubted even the Winter Soldier could improvise an explosive strong enough to take it out without blowing himself to smithereens in the process.

“It’s hard to tell, Boss, but it looks like he’s disassembling it.”

“What? Why? That’s a rhetorical question, FRI, no need to snark a sleep-deprived Stark any more than you already have.”

Tony walked through the sliding doors. Hard to be sneaky with those. Or burst through them dramatically. So that left trying to look purposeful (in his pajamas and bare feet), which faltered now that he was actually here face-to-face with a fully alert super-soldier assassin on the other side of the room in his (hopefully) Hulk-proof and Barnes-proof chamber. Truthfully, the room kind of reminded him of Hannibal Lecter’s chamber in the _Silence of the Lambs_ … no that was _Red Dragon_. Either way, it gave him the creeps and Tony had forgotten about the horror movie creepiness factor until now. Out of sight, out of mind.

Barnes sat on the floor, one leg folded in front of him, the other in front of him, akimbo. Tony hated to admit it, but the guy cleaned up pretty good. Tony could see the line of Barnes’ shoulders tense the instant the door hissed open. The chocolate brown hair hanging in his face as he looked down at the components in front of him. Well, sort of, if chocolate got kind of reddish-gold highlights from the sun. _What the hell?_ This train of thought? Scientific proof that FRIDAY was absolutely correct in barring Tony from the lab.

Barnes glared up at his visitor from under his eyebrows, but when he recognized Tony, he raised his head, “Chto ty zdes' delaete?” _What are you doing here?_

Tony tapped his ear, “Sorry, WarGames. Just English tonight.”

The super-soldier leaned back, head tipped to the side a fraction, “Why are you here?” Barnes’ tone gruff, but more curious than demanding.

 _How was it that Tony had never noticed the slight cleft in Barnes’ chin?_ “Um… well, I was on a mission of mercy to locate Rogers’ Starkpad, but I see I’m too late.” Stark folded his arms and tried to seem stern, not like he was also noticing that somebody’d been shaving – the stubble was more ‘movie star on his day off’ than ‘wanted fugitive’ now. “What’s all this? C’mon. Explain.”

Barnes looked down at the electronic components carefully set in small piles around him and shrugged, “It was… neschastnyj sluchaj.” He rubbed his jaw, thinking for a second, “An accident.”

Tony blinked. “You’re telling me that you accidentally, expertly, _carefully_ disassembled Captain America’s Starkpad?”

The assassin’s lips moved ever so slightly as he thought – not that Tony noticed. Barnes responded, “Yes.”

Tony sagged and rolled his eyes, turned to walk away, and threw his hands in the air. “You’re in a big… kind of box thing… and somehow you’re still murdering my tech-babies?”

From behind Tony, what sounded like a soft chuckle came from inside the Chamber. Tony turned around, “What’s so funny?”

A small almost-smile crept to Barnes’ lips and Tony was struck by how young the Sergeant had been when he’d been captured by HYDRA. He looked *maybe* thirty? And that was after a couple of years on the run. Tony cleared his throat, “So c’mon, spill.”

“Just the idea that you and Steve had a baby and he left it on the reception desk in sick bay.”

Tony tried to emphasize that he wasn’t going to just let Barnes flout the rules – they had official and legal oversight now…. “Where you proceeded to kidnap and dismember it.”

 _Snap._ The shutter slammed down on Barnes’ features, the tentative openness and fun gone. Jaw set, eyes down.

Shit. _Just when things were going so well_ …. Wait? What things? Tony spun on his heel to walk out. He did _not_ need any _things_ with the man who killed his mother.

From the chamber, he heard a strangled whisper, “Miss FRIDAY?...” but the hiss of the door drowned out the rest of Barnes’ question.

Tony made his way back to the kitchen. Maybe a year-old s’more pop-tart wouldn’t be so bad after all…. In the communal kitchen, Tony tried to shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong. Waiting for the toaster, he asked FRIDAY, “Hey FRI? What did Barnes want?”

A long silence.

“FRI? You there beautiful?”

“Obviously." She sounded… angry… like Pepper when she got mad. 

“Sooo… what did Barnes want to know?” He knew he was treading thin ice, but he wanted to know. Had a feeling it was relevant here.

Another significant pause, like someone trying hard to not say the most hurtful things they could think of during a fight with their family. “He asked me if it had been alive like me.”

Well that shot his cavalier nonchalance to shit. “Ah.”

FRIDAY continued, “Then when I told him no, he asked if it was part of me and if he’d hurt me by taking it apart.”

“Oh.” Here’s where Anna Jarvis would’ve told him, ‘You march right back there and apologize young man.’ That’s when it struck him full in the gut that he’d said something _Howard_ would’ve said. Didn’t matter who he said it to, Tony couldn’t leave it like that. Subdued, “Let me get my toolbox.”

The angry note still audible in the AI’s voice, FRIDAY replied, “I suggest the red one, Boss.” They were all red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's easier this time around for Bucky to think of himself as a person, since he was out of cryostasis for so long prior to being wiped and refrozen, but he still thinks of himself somewhat impersonally and isn't really comfortable with personal names in regard to himself (which is why he keeps thinking of himself as Barnes).
> 
> So I need to know - how angsty should this be? I'm kind of divided, so I'm ready for opinions! :D (Really love getting feedback! :D)


	6. F Is for Flash Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it so bad that he wanted to live? Even if it was a horrible life? Even if…? What? He spent his life alone in a clear indestructible room?
> 
> More angsty feels and hopefully a couple of awww moments. ;D

Barnes sat in the corner farthest away from the pieces of the broken Starkpad, knees drawn up to his chest as close as he could get them. For a moment, he’d started to think he was having an almost regular conversation with Stark, but the hostility in those words, in the tone of voice…. What did you expect? _You killed his parents._ His dad was supposed to be a friend of yours.

He hoped what FRIDAY said was true, but he couldn’t know for sure. A lot of the tech he’d seen here at the Compound seemed alive – or connected anyway. How could he have known it wasn’t just a device like any other?

 _You tried to kill him too_ … the little voice of self-loathing in the back of his mind helpfully added. With Rogers. Rogers lied to Tony – maybe he lied to you too. Maybe he went to all that trouble just to hand you back to HYDRA without generating suspicion. Or was it like Steve had said, that he’d just been trying to protect Bucky and Tony from the truth. Probably more likely Rogers had just been trying to avoid the unpleasant truth that the kid he grew up with turned out to be the kind of guy who’d turn over and do whatever someone told him to once they hurt him enough. Steve would’ve died rather than succumb to HYDRA.

Was it so bad that he wanted to live? Even if it was a horrible life? Even if…? What? He spent his life alone in a clear indestructible room?

_Ungrateful. That’s what you are. You get away from HYDRA, you’re treated well (could get away if you wanted to), fed, clothed, allowed visitors. And you want **more**?_

Barnes pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees. _No tears either, sissy. What? He hurt your feelings? You thought because he didn’t want you freaking out in an airplane thousands of feet in the air that he_ cared _? That he was your_ friend _?_

The swish of the door opening outside the chamber interrupted his train of thought. That’d be the security guys coming to retrieve the broken Starkpad and do a sweep of his room for other contraband. He closed his eyes to try to compose himself, put his hands on top of his head, and started to move – ready either to stand up, kneel, or lay down – whichever the guards demanded.

No orders were given. Instead, he heard a throat clear outside his door. Barnes opened his eyes, surprised to see Stark back. Stark held a deep red tool box with gold metallic fleck mixed into the paint. “I um…” Stark scrubbed a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry Barnes. It was a really shitty thing to say….” Stark looked uncertain, hesitant.

Barnes lowered his hands, resting his forearms on the tops of his knees, hands dangling in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now, so he didn’t do anything.

Stark took a deep breath, “I was thinking…” Barnes could almost see the ideas and words dancing around Stark’s head. Stark tried again, “I was thinking maybe – if it’s okay with you – maybe you and I could make a Frankenbaby?” Stark blushed, “With technology. And science.” He mumbled, “Not really better, Stark…”

“Ok.” _You’re going to forgive him that easily?_ Yes. They’d probably never really be friends – too much… history between them – but he’d take the olive branch since it was offered.

Letting himself in, Stark had already started talking about how they probably wouldn’t get a functioning Starkpad out of the components, but maybe they could put together something else instead. Barnes noticed that as enthusiastic as Stark sounded, his hands shook just a bit. Of course, they would. He was essentially getting into a large cage with a killer – who’d tried to kill him before… twice? It _was_ twice, now that he thought about it. _Berlin and Siberia._ Nearly succeeded. Realization washed over him that he was looking at the bravest person he’d ever met. Who was scared as hell to be trapped in the same room as the Winter Soldier. Trapped since the locks reengaged once the door was closed and could only be opened from the outside.

Stark sat down on the floor next to the tidy piles of Starkpad guts, “You coming or what? Our Frankenbaby won’t build itself. Trust me - that’s for the best. Voice of experience and all that…”

Barnes got up slowly and hoped for once he didn’t seem too threatening. Sat as far away as he could where he could be construed as part of the project, but well out of arm’s reach.

Stark sighed, impatient, “C’mon. This isn’t a junior high school dance. I’m not gonna do this – you are.”

Scooting over, Barnes listened as Tony Stark started explaining what the components were and their functions. With Tony’s help, FRIDAY’s advice, and YouTube, he’d gotten about halfway with reassembling it when he felt soft pressure on his shoulder and soft, regular breathing from the man next to him.

Turning his head slightly, Barnes felt Tony’s hair brush the side of his neck. Stark fell asleep? A small pleasure started to bubble up inside him – did Stark feel that comfortable with him? He took a deep breath. _Don’t mistake fatigue for trust, Soldier._

He worked quietly with as little movement as possible, trying not to wake Stark. Trying not to think too much about the warmth where they touched. Or how Tony ( _Tony now?_ ) smelled like coffee and something citrusy and spicy. When he’d finished as much as he could, he looked again at Tony, resisting the urge to bury his nose in Tony’s hair.

“FRIDAY?” he whispered. “Call someone to let him out.”

“Boss was awake for 40 hours prior to falling asleep here. He needs his rest.”

Barnes glared up at the ceiling where he thought FRIDAY’s cameras were. Then, very carefully turned his body so Tony’s head didn’t fall forward or back, scooped Stark up and carried him to the cot that’d been set up in the room, covered him with the available blankets, and sat down on the floor next to the bed.

To be completely honest with himself, he hadn’t really slept much either these past few weeks and the hypervigilance was catching up to him too. Maybe closing his eyes for a moment wasn’t such a bad idea….

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

 _16 December..._ the date flashed green on a black computer screen. One of the old kind. CRTs they were called. CRT… cathode ray tube? _Whatever._ Where was here? A bank of computer monitors. A cold room. Old sturdy steel office chairs with green vinyl seats. Yellow pencils and legal pads.

From where Barnes stood in the room, it looked larger. Some of the monitors played static. Others, missions he’d been on. A few showed the recalibration chair or the cryochamber. In another, he saw himself riding a motorcycle, shooting out Howard Stark’s tire, causing the car accident. Only when he pulled Howard off the ground, he was holding Tony by the shirt front, could feel the impact of his fist once, twice, three times.

He stood next to the car, felt the crisp December night air. Heard the crunch of gravel under his boots. He was there. Smelling the blood and the burning rubber and plastic from the engine as he choked the life out of the woman in the front seat, unsure if she was Tony’s mother or his friend Pepper Potts, but powerless to stop himself.

A gurgled noise behind him caught his attention and he stood again in the same security room with the vintage equipment. Turning around, he saw Natasha’s body sprawled on the floor, angles all wrong. Her neck off kilter, blue eyes dull, lifeless. Steve sat slumped next to her, blood pooling on the floor, his face battered and bruised, blood seeping from gunshot wounds across his chest.

Barnes tried to move, tried to scream, but he was frozen in place. Bits of memories filtered in, what looked like Berlin. He was choking Natasha and she gasped out, “You could at least recognize me,” and now she lay dead at his feet.

Steve lowering his arms, “I don’t want to fight you, Buck.” A chest full of bullets, the end of the line.

It felt like he was choking – he couldn’t breathe. The blood creeping closer and closer to him. His hands already sticky with it. From somewhere, he heard an organ and bass line. _Music?_

 _What the hell?_ Surveying the room more critically, there didn’t seem to be any walls. What? Voices, singing, “Flash light… everybody’s got a little light under the sun!” What?

Barnes woke with a start, the music with the organ and bass – people clapping too – still playing. On repeat. FRIDAY’s voice, softly asked, “Sergeant Barnes? Are you all right?”

He turned quickly to see Tony still sleeping quietly in the cot behind him. “Natasha? Steve? Are they okay?”

“Captain Rogers is out for his morning run and Ms. Romanov is away from the Compound at this time.” Gently, FRIDAY added, “You were having a nightmare… I used Boss’s Flash Light protocol. 'To shine a light in dark places when all others go out.'” The music faded to the background.

Tears prickled his eyes, voice raspy with emotion, he said, “I dreamt I killed them all. I’ve tried before. I remember shooting Natka twice…. Pochemu oni tak horoshi dobri ko mne?” _Why are they so kind to me?_

FRIDAY replied, “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I just want to help… I think you deserve a second chance.”

“Even though I tried to kill your Boss twice?”

“I agree it’s illogical,” FRIDAY agreed sympathetically.

A huff of not-quite amusement.

“Do you regret your actions?” FRIDAY asked simply.

“Apologies don’t bring back the dead. It was these hands, Miss FRIDAY. Ya ih pomnju. _I remember them._ Dream about them. How can anybody apologize for something like that?” He shook his head. “Ya ne zasluzhivaju proshheniya za to, chto ya sdelal.” _I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I did._

FRIDAY paused long enough that Barnes didn’t think she’d respond. She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, “Then I suppose you’ll need a flash light for a long while yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song FRIDAY plays is the classic funk song "Flash Light" by Parliament (1978). It later becomes her ring tone when she makes calls to Bucky's phone.
> 
> Many, many thanks to DemonReader who pointed out some errors in my Russian translation in previous chapters (I'm sure there's more where that came from.... My apologies!). I've since updated to incorporate the suggestions! :D
> 
> I hope this makes up for Tony hurting Bucky's feelings last ch. :>  
> Love to you all and I hope you enjoy the update! Let me know what you think!!!


	7. G Is for Good-byes and Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes sat and watched the security guards. He made them nervous. Really, he shouldn’t take out his disappointment that Tony hadn’t come to say good-bye on these guys. He knew there wasn’t anything there – that Tony Stark was not for the likes of him. Trying not to think about those deep brown eyes and the quick intelligence that flashed in them. He missed the nicknames. The jokes. It’d felt so _easy_ to just be with him – at least when he wasn’t overthinking it.

The tumult of Tony Stark sleeping off nearly two days of continuous productivity in the Winter Soldier’s Hulk/Soldier-proof room died down gradually (Colonel Rhodes didn’t let _that_ go easily). However, the discussion around removing the Soldier’s trigger words moved at a much more rapid pace. Ten days later, Barnes found himself on the way to Wakanda with an extensive security detail including Natasha and the Captain. Not quite Natka and Steve when they were working.

He sat and watched the security guards. He made them nervous. Really, he shouldn’t take out his disappointment that Tony hadn’t come to say good-bye on these guys. He knew there wasn’t anything there – that Tony Stark was not for the likes of him. Trying not to think about those deep brown eyes and the quick intelligence that flashed in them. He missed the nicknames. The jokes. It’d felt so _easy_ to just be with him – at least when he wasn’t overthinking it.

He leaned his head back against the shell of the plane with a soft thud. _What the hell was wrong with him?_ Wanting the person he’d wronged the most? _How fucked up was that?_ Wanting to feel the thin line of Tony’s beard under his lips. To run his fingers through his hair. He wanted to hear Tony laugh…. Could picture Tony throwing his head back laughing like a little kid. That’d be something to experience. And to be able to be the one to make him laugh like that? _Well, frankly, that wasn’t bloody likely, now was it?_ Start small – like for Tony’s hands not to shake with fear when they were in the same room together. He looked at the guy next to him who visibly shrank away. Yeah. _Not fuckin’ likely at all._

Natasha swatted him on the knee with a magazine and he looked up. “Keep yourself busy, Sarge.”

The magazine was one of those celebrity magazines. He rolled his eyes, but obeyed anyway. Let the security guys chew on that for a while – the Winter Soldier reading celebrity gossip. Flipping through, amidst the pop stars and royals, he came across an article about the Avengers. Steve, Wilson, and Natasha coming home… and Tony Stark’s upcoming wedding to Pepper Potts. They were speculating who Stark would ask to be his best man. Column on the left said, obviously Colonel Rhodes. Column on the right disputed, – claiming Steve Rogers would take the honor instead now that he was back in the States.

His eyes kept scanning the words and turning the pages at appropriate intervals, but his brain stopped making sense of anything he read. _Married._ Always married. The ones he liked. He’d started to remember them a little bit since Stark’s sleepover. There’d been a couple that he thought ‘maybe I’m more to him than just… a good time – a body…. Maybe this guy wants _me_ …,’ but they never said so. Never went anywhere other than the bedroom or the occasional alley or bar bathroom. _Whose fault is that? Worthless…_

He tossed the magazine back to Natasha and closed his eyes. Tried to force himself to think about something else. Like why Steve was so angry with him all the time - another cheerful topic.

Arrival in Wakanda and getting settled in didn’t take long. Natasha and the Captain asked a lot of questions about the equipment Princess Shuri had been working on with Stark’s input - Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. _B.A.R.F._ Shuri laughed about the name when he’d asked and said, “Don’t blame me! Tony named it.” Tony didn’t care about _him_. Just wanted the trigger words gone. Wanted to bring him into the fold. Good PR for the Avengers, for SHIELD, and the Veterans’ Administration. Probably wouldn’t hurt Stark Industries’ bottom line either.

Introductions made, good-byes said. Natka hugged him good-bye, “Take care of yourself, Barnes. You still owe me a coffee date.” Hugging him longer than was strictly friendly, then said, “I’ll miss you. Come back in one piece, Yasha,” then kissed him on the cheek.

Steve also gave him a kind of friendly bro hug, but instead of good-bye, whispered, “Find another girl, Buck.” Then louder said, “Good luck pal. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Without thinking, Barnes responded, “How can I? You’re takin’ all the stupid with you.”

At that, Steve actually smiled for a moment before his eyes became serious again.

“Seriously Steve? Yeto ne tak s ney.” _It’s not like that with her_. Seeing Steve’s uncomprehending glare, Barnes rubbed the back of his neck. Tell him the truth? _All of it?_ Maybe just part of it. “Not ready for that right now.”

The furrow on Steve’s forehead seemed to reverse and melt back into the rest of his forehead, his expression softening into something fond, “Take care of yourself, Buck.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Three weeks since the Winter Soldier left for Wakanda and Tony was _still_ hearing about ‘his little stunt’ from Rhodey and Pepper. Apparently, he didn’t seem penitent enough. Or _something_. Tony tried to think of a way to explain that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic with a death wish or a guy with a giant crush. He had just wanted to apologize for being an asshole, that’s all. The end. _Fin._

He’d almost given in to his sarcastic streak with Rhodey the other day when they were arguing. Rhodey’d brought it up _again_ , “I just… I can’t even Tony. I mean what do you even know about the guy other than that **_he. tried. to. kill. you_**?!”

Tony had been thinking about how Hank Pym’s shrinking technology might work, while putting some finishing touches on the Frankenbaby Starkpad, so he was caught somewhat unawares – having not paid any attention whatsoever to the beginning of Rhodey’s rant. He managed to catch himself before he said, ‘Guess I can’t resist a brooding anti-hero with a dark past,’ or ‘You may have noticed he’s got a kickass metal arm? Kinda into that…’ or even, ‘Christ Rhodey! Do you have _eyes_? Have you _seen_ the man?’ None of those responses would have resulted in fewer well-meaning lectures.

Instead, Tony said something like, “He just seemed lonely….” also true. Completely true. Totally. “And like I said before, I pulled a Howard on him, saying he murdered Rogers’ Starkpad.”

Rhodey sighed, “I know Tones. I know…. I just worry that this is some kind of self-destructive thing like the drinking and the women… you know. Just don’t want to see you fall back into that over some assassin buddy of Rogers’.”

“I appreciate it, I do. But there’s no _‘thing’_ with Barnes.” Tony was just going add Frankenbaby to the care package Natasha was putting together for Barnes. Along with a couple things that frankly, he was surprised no one else thought to include. And he wasn’t looking forward to the guy’s reaction either. _Nope._ Hadn’t been daydreaming about those stormy grey-blue eyes or the way when Barnes concentrated on something, he really gave it his full attention. Or that even with the metal arm, that he could handle things so delicately, so gently. The guy could tear up pavement with it, after all. Had nearly torn out the arc reactor out of the Iron Man suit too.

Funny how even in Siberia, Rogers and Barnes had approached that particular problem differently. Barnes had tried – essentially – to take apart the suit. It was Rogers who’d decided smashing it was the way to go. Though to be fair, that was after he’d blasted away more than half of Barnes’ arm. Both super-soldiers fought him, but Tony had attacked Barnes first – and in retrospect, the guy hadn’t tried too hard to defend himself until Rogers leaped into the fray.

Tony sighed and looked over to see Rhodey watching him. Clearly not believing the lack of _‘things’_ between Tony and Rogers’ blast from the past.

Tony hopped up, “Got places to go, people to see, Gum Drop. Glad we had this chat.”

On his way to the common area where N-Ro was packing the care package box, Tony wondered idly what the others were adding. On arrival, he was surprised that Rogers was nowhere to be seen.

Natasha looked up and smiled at Tony, “Steve’s sulking. Thinks I’ve got the hots for his boy.”

“Do you?” The question was an honest one. Not like he wanted to know for any personal reason. N-Ro was a friend and you asked about friends’ lives sometimes. You know, when they brought it up.

Natasha laughed, “Even if I did, pretty sure I’m not his type.”

“Maybe you should go blonde?” Tony was kidding, but there was _a lot_ of open speculation about why Steve Rogers would go to such lengths for some friend of his unless there was more to the story than just that.

“Don’t think that’d do the trick.” She watched him poke through the box. Natasha had never asked why he’d gone to visit Barnes. “What brings you out of the ivory tower?”

Tony peeked in the box to see what Rogers was sending his friend. Magazines apparently – including a copy of _Us_ speculating on when Rogers and Barnes were coming out of the closet (and getting married). Was that supposed to be a hint? _Tick tock, Soldier – we’ve got a wedding to plan?_ Oh, Rogers was also sending a subscription code to the New York Times Online. _Well there’s a gift that keeps on giving, how thoughtful._

Replying to Natasha’s question, “Oh, you know… this and that. FRIDAY thought we should contribute to the care package too. Free will for the win, et cetera, et cetera.”

Chocolate. That’s what Nat was sending. All kinds of it. And _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. The Trouble Man soundtrack had to be from Wilson. A salt crystal lamp? Hmmm…. Maybe Helen Cho?

“What are you sending?”

Tony handed the bag with his (and FRIDAY’s) contributions over.

She removed the contents one by one. “One StarkPad with a green case…. One black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones.” Nat raised an eyebrow. “ _WarGames_ – the movie. And _Bewitched_ – all six seasons of the TV show… One coffee mug – yellow.” Natasha read the mug’s caption, “‘I am a ray of fucking sunshine.’”

“The coffee machine’s on its way already,” Tony explained.

Nat smiled, tucking everything in with lots of bubble wrap for the fragile stuff, “Trying to make the rest of us look bad Tony?”

Tony shook his head, “Well no one can compete with the New York Times Online,” and made a face.

Natasha laughed, a youthful, bubbly sound with a husky edge, then still smiling, asked, “Really, what’s all this about?”

Way to get yourself interrogated by the Black Widow, Stark. While Barnes had been here, Nat visited him every day – at least for a few minutes. Tony wasn’t sure how much the two trusted each other – he hadn’t spied on their conversations – but they seemed comfortable with one another.

Exhaling, Tony shrugged, “Just seems like the guy could use a friend. Rogers seems mad at him…” Tony shrugged again. _Inspiration_. “And we’re kind of tech bros. He’s good at taking things apart –”

“And you’re good at fixing them?” Nat asked, clearly not believing this was in any way the whole truth.

“No. I’m the best at fixing things,” Tony corrected. “And clearly, this stuff from me is to make sure he knows I’m kind of a jerk and to make all of you guys look great by comparison.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The BARF sessions were intense. Repeatedly viewing the same or similar memories again and again until they were just horrible instead of crippling. Made it hard to think about anything other than HYDRA and how fucked up he and his life were. Also made it difficult to do much else other than sleep and occasionally eat. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Princess Shuri or the SHIELD-verified therapist (a real therapist this time), or that he didn’t get along with the Wakandan guards – he did. He just felt so drained – like his whole body was stuffed with wet sand.

He’d lost track of how many days he’d been there. Didn’t really make a difference. They’d gotten through deprogramming one word. _One._ Still no guarantee that they still wouldn’t work together as a group though. No one wanted to try the sequence without disabling a few of the others.

Someone entered his room. He didn’t look, just stared at the wall. Shuri’s voice behind him said, “Go mope outside. In the sun. It will be good for you. There might also be some of that fruit that you like.”

After she left, he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself outside. She was right. Shuri was almost always right – the sun did feel good as he sat on the edge of the balcony wall. If he wanted to, he could count the guards stationed here and there. There’d probably be half a dozen that he couldn’t see too.

He heard a noise to his right, the sound of Parliament’s song, ‘Flash Light,’ coming from a large box next to his door. He was slipping – hadn’t even noticed it until now. The music started again, and he opened the box carefully. The Dora Milaje wouldn’t allow an unexamined (or unexpected) package to come this far.

Inside, a Starkphone rang incessantly. “Privet?” _Hello?_ he asked cautiously.

“Hey, I had FRIDAY call when she got notification that your care package arrived. Get a chance to look yet?” _Stark?_

“No, just a second.” He sighed, and picked up the box with his metal arm easily enough, setting it down inside his room on his bed.

“You know, if it’s such an inconvenience having people give a shit about your well-being…. Well, you signed up for the wrong team.”

“Didn’t sign up,” he muttered.

“Well, your ‘end of the line’ stuff with Rogers is practically a blood oath. No takebacks. On screen, FRI – I wanna see this. We’re recording for the rest of the team, by the way. They’re out and about taking on some sort of sentient alien jelly creatures. Can you believe they said – well Rogers said – they didn’t need my help?” In his best (still not very good) imitation of Captain America, “The world doesn’t revolve around you Stark.” Tony’s own sarcastic voice came back with, “Hello? _My_ world does….”

Barnes wished he’d cleaned up. Washed his hair at least. “Sounds gross. Takin’ a miss on that’s probably for the best.”

“You kinda look like shit, Barnes.”

“Fuck you,” the automatic retort was out before Barnes could stop it.

Tony pressed on, “I mean, are they not feeding you? Good thing we sent the good stuff. Open it!”

Stark sounded enthusiastic, so why were there lines of worry around his eyes and mouth? Suspicious, Barnes pulled out three boxes of dark chocolate candies with nuts and two of just chocolate covered caramels. _Natka._ A green Starkpad. What? They were usually all black with a thin red and gold stripe.

“If you leave our Frankenbaby in sick bay, we’ll have to rewrite our parenting plan. You’ll be glad to know that Steve’s phone now cries if he’s in the Compound, but more than ten feet away from it.”

His lips twitched up, “Can’t leave children unattended like that.”

Barnes removed the CD from Wilson and the Blu-Ray discs from Tony. Picked up the shirt.

“Think it’ll fit?”

Shrugging, Barnes stripped off the shirt he’d been wearing for two? days, “Let’s find out.”

More voices joined the call while he had his back turned, “Tones? Why am I seeing a half-naked super-soldier during our check-in call with the Sergeant?”

Barnes looked over his shoulder to see the screen split, Tony in his office on one side and Natasha, Steve, Sam Wilson, and Tony’s friend Rhodes inside a Quinjet XR4. Tony stared. _Right._ Sometimes Barnes forgot about the scars – both evidence of his missions for HYDRA and the raised, puckered skin where metal joined flesh around his shoulder and chest. He looked down and pulled on the shirt quickly as Colonel Rhodes repeated himself, “Tones? Tony? Are you going to explain this?”

The shirt fit only because it stretched. He would’ve picked a size larger. He turned around, and thought he heard Tony say “Wow.” At the same time, Natasha said, “No wonder they call it the Jolly Roger.”

Steve scowled. Looking back into the box, he found coffee and the yellow mug, held it up for everybody to see. Tony raised his hand, claiming it as his gift and Steve started to go off on Tony about being insensitive and undermining Bucky’s healing process.

Barnes tried not to smile too broadly and bit his lip. Tony didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Steve or Colonel Rhodes. “Solnechnyj luch?” _Sunbeam?_ “Guess it depends on who’s around.”

With a hint of pink across Tony’s cheeks and forehead, the fine lines of worry around his mouth vanished and Stark smiled. “Glad you like it. There’s more where that came from, Robocop.”

Natasha was trying to tell Steve to stop being an idiot, “Nobody’s listening to you saharók.” _Sugar._

Now Rhodes focused on Natka and Steve, “Whoa, whoa… why am I just hearing about the two of you now?”

“Spasibo…” a shy, pleased smile hovered on the Soldier’s face, until he half-hid it with his hand, “I mean thank you. Ya ne znaju, chto skazat'.” _I don’t know what to say._ “Don’t know why you’d do all this for me.”

Natasha smiled fondly, “You’re part of the family now, like it or not Yasha.”

He rolled his eyes and made a passable attempt to look surly, “You’re all crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! :D I keep thinking I'll only update once/week, but I don't want to wait that long!! :> Especially if I make it through the whole alphabet, lol! 
> 
> I hope this is worth waiting for. Dream-free this time. Some denial, some pining, and Tony being awesome. Let me know what you think!!! (Yay for comments!!)


	8. H Is for Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working through and interacting with his memories of HYDRA didn’t get any better, but having a few things to distract himself with outside of the sessions helped Barnes recover more quickly between them. He worked hard on the therapy and the BARF sessions and watched the hell out of _Bewitched_. It was just the kind of light, silly thing he could lose himself in for a little bit. Everything so ridiculous that it was just fun.
> 
> And then Tony called again...

Working through and interacting with his memories of HYDRA didn’t get any better, but having a few things to distract himself with outside of the sessions helped Barnes recover more quickly between them. He worked hard on the therapy and the BARF sessions and watched the hell out of _Bewitched_. It was just the kind of light, silly thing he could lose himself in for a little bit. Everything so ridiculous that it was just fun.

Sometimes he texted Natka.

Actually used Frankenbaby to read through the New York Times Online. Good stuff in there. That was about all it was good for though because the colors in the screen flickered and sometimes it just randomly turned off.

In the last six weeks, Tony Stark had sent two more packages (aside from another sent by the team as a whole) to ‘make sure he didn’t run out of coffee.’ So now Barnes had a whole collection of coffee mugs with meme-like captions on the side that he found fucking hilarious. He ordered them next to the coffee machine in the order he received them:

• I am a ray of fucking sunshine.  
• Do I look like a people person? (with a cartoon grim reaper)  
• Yelling – it’s texting for old people.  
• Yet despite the look on my face you’re still talking. (His personal favorite)  


Stark had also sent more shirts with each package, insisting Barnes needed a more robust wardrobe. So now in addition to the handful of plain shirts provided when he arrived at the Compound, he had three black t-shirts with different captions from Tony (all slightly too small) and a tank top – the kind that guys used to wear under other shirts. On the front of the tank top, a green 8-bit font said, ‘Shall we play a game?'”

He liked that one partially because he thought it was funny since Tony kept calling him WarGames, partially because he liked the way Tony’s eyes lingered over his arms and chest. He wasn’t just imagining it, right?

Kept thinking about texting Tony…. He flung his arm over his eyes shielding them from where the sun was invading his small studio apartment near the palace. The fact of the matter still hadn’t changed: Stark was getting married. The wedding was supposed to be in a couple of months – well before Barnes was likely to finish the BARF sessions. If he spent more time talking to Stark, it’d be that much harder to let go, so they only talked when Stark called to make sure the package arrived.

The sun on his face made him drowsy. Too soon, his phone started making noise – this time Pat Benatar belting out ‘You’re a heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker – don’t you mess around with me!’ Which meant that Tony was calling him directly (‘Flash Light’ was FRIDAY’s ring tone).

“H’lo?”

“How’s my favorite super-soldier? Catch you sleeping?”

“Mmmm.” Barnes hadn’t actually opened his eyes, just reached for the phone and answered.

“Gonna need your attention for this, Robocop.” Tony sounded apologetic.

“Wha’ for?” Barnes raised both eyebrows, but his eyes remained closed.

“Trying to clean up a…” Tony searched for the words, “Your boy can’t tell a lie to save his life.”

Trying determinedly to stay asleep, Barnes mumbled, “G’rge Wshingtn?”

“No! Not George Washington! Rogers.”

Grudgingly, Barnes slitted his eyes open, “Yeah, Steve’s a terrible liar.” Forced himself to sit up, “What’d he do?”

“First, I need to know – are you two an item?”

“What? No.” Barnes was feeling increasingly crabby. He’d pictured the ‘soooo… seeing anybody?’ conversation going much differently.

“No old man modesty or sweater clutching on the guys holding hands thing.”

“Steve’s feet stink and he’s annoying. No.” Eyebrows knitting together into what Sam Wilson (unbeknownst to Barnes) called the murder glare, “Why? Steve said he was gonna take care of all those rumors.”

“Well, he failed miserably. Yes, there was a press conference and it started out all right. Rogers said he wanted to put all the rumors about the two of you to rest. Pepper and Hill made cards for him to read from, but reporters started asking questions right away and he got distracted. Ended up making it sound like you two had been an item, but that he was dumping you because you’re ‘not the guy he knew back in Brooklyn.’”

“Motherfucker.”

“You’d think it’d be a challenge for _Captain America_ to piss off all the major veterans’ groups and pretty much the entire LGBTQ community at the same time, but apparently your BFF managed fine. Only took about ten minutes.”

Barnes breathed through clenched teeth, trying to stay calm. Steve had promised. _Promised._ That he’d take care of this.

Tony stayed quiet for a moment then said, “Still no murdering Rogers. I might have another option if you’re up for it.”

“Prodoljai.” _Continue._

“Think you should give a couple of interviews.” Tony quickly added, “Not a whole big press conference, just a couple interviews with people who’ll stick to predetermined questions.”

Barnes heaved a sigh.

Tony continued, “Plus, it’s been more than four months. The public wants more than a few old photos from World War 2. They want to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Nyet.”

“C’mon…. What about Natasha? She’s been through a lot already and now people are throwing her under the bus here too. Saying it’s her fault Steve dumped you.”

“That’s just being manipulative.”

“Please?”

So much for all the good intentions of distancing himself as far as possible from Tony Stark. The man used common courtesy and Barnes was ready to cave. “What about BARF?”

“Well, with four words down, there’s a good chance the others won’t trigger, and you can work through the rest here.”

“We’re gonna try it first, right? I don’t wanna just assume it’s gonna be fine.”

“Shuri was planning to try the sequence soon anyway. Trying to figure out who you’d trust enough to use the words. She was thinking maybe Natasha since you guys seem to be close.”

“Who already knows the words?” Barnes asked, feeling less irate and more exhausted.

"Aside from HYDRA, you mean?”

“Da.”

Tony thought for a moment, “Not entirely sure. Probably a couple of higher-ups in SHIELD, but that’s probably it.”

Before he could change his mind, Barnes asked, “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Be the one to test the triggers.”

A long pause followed, and Barnes felt all the anxiety, anger, and frustration merge into a weight in the pit of his stomach. Finally, Tony responded, “Why ask me?”

Barnes couldn’t identify the emotion in the other man’s voice, but it sounded strained. He pulled his legs up in front of him and leaned his head back against the wall. _Fuck._ “Prosti. _Sorry._ I…” He took a breath, “I’m sorry… your parents. Berlin. Siberia. All of it. I can’t…” He wiped away a tear impatiently. “Can’t ask for forgiveness for things like that, but this thing I can give you.”

Again, with emotions Barnes couldn’t identify, Tony said slowly, “And if I won’t?”

The weight in his stomach settled into a vague nausea. If something so heavy could feel hollow at the same time, that was how he felt. To his own ears, his voice sounded wooden, “Then it doesn’t matter. Send who you want.”

“I’ve gotta go.” And Tony was gone.

 _Idiot._ Stark doesn’t want your apologies. Bunch of empty words from your stupid empty head. _‘A kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life.’_ He wept. For the lives he’d taken. For the man who died in 1944 when he fell from the train. For the small hope he’d allowed himself that now tasted like ash in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll get Tony's side of the convo in the next chapter. Sorry (not-sorry) for the angst. }:>
> 
> *Actually* sorry this chapter's a little short. Will try to get another update out (maybe tonight maybe tomorrow). Our boys deserve some of the comfort side of the angst/comfort! It's coming soon!! :D
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	9. I Is for Interrogations and Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking back into the lab, the same circular thought pattern started back up. _What should he say?_ Was it right to accept that kind of power over somebody? It was Barnes’ choice, but if BARF wasn’t working as well as they thought, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted the Soldier looking to _him_ for direction. On the other hand, it was the guy’s choice, right? Shouldn’t Barnes be able to make that decision for himself?

Tony spent almost two weeks avoiding people who might ask him questions about his well-being and was largely successful. He had cancelled a dinner and two lunch dates with Pepper and had been ‘too busy’ to take half a dozen calls from Rhodey.

Natasha on the other hand was stealthier and less likely to dither when it came to information discovery. After unsuccessfully staking out the coffee machine in the common area, she had waited for him in the bathroom next to the lab.

“Hey Tony, I was hoping to run into you,” she said casually, sitting on the counter by the sink.

“Oh. N-Ro. Fancy meeting you here.”

“You have a chance to talk to Yasha about the interviews? Potts and Hill need to know so they can put the PR machine to work.”

She was only luring him into admitting he’d talked with Barnes. Tony knew how she worked, had heard her interrogate other people. Misdirection so the poor sap gave up something he didn’t mean to. “I’ll have to get on that.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “FRIDAY mentioned you two spoke last week after Steve’s press conference.”

“Well, nothing’s definite. Nothing to report.”

Folding her arms, Nat looked at him, “Is that why his phone’s been turned off for the past week?”

“I –”

"Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted, “you just received a package from Wakanda. It’s in the lab.” That sounded ominous. Was his imagination or had FRI been kind of frosty toward him this week? It hadn’t occurred to him because he’d been distracted by avoiding people and trying to figure out how to respond to Barnes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow critically at Tony, “Don’t let me stop you.”

Tony had the feeling Nat knew something he didn’t. Well, that was true like 97% of the time anyway. Had a feeling she might be annoyed with him, though, and that didn’t sit quite right – what had he done?

Walking back into the lab, the same circular thought pattern started back up. _What should he say?_ Was it right to accept that kind of power over somebody? It was Barnes’ choice, but if BARF wasn’t working as well as they thought, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted the Soldier looking to _him_ for direction. On the other hand, it was the guy’s choice, right? Shouldn’t Barnes be able to make that decision for himself?

Distracted by the circular thought pattern that’d been bothering him for more than a week as well as the box on the table in front of him, Tony answered his phone when it rang. “Stark.”

“Tony! Christ! Have you been under a rock?” Rhodey sighed, “I’ve been trying to get through to you! You get my messages?”

“No…. Only old people listen to voicemail.”

Rhodey sighed – the kind that was annoyed and exasperated all tied up with a bow. “I’m on my way back from Wakanda with Sergeant Barnes. We’re stopping in Paris to ride home with Pepper and Maria.”

“Right. The clean energy summit…” Then, as _all_ the words filtered into Tony’s tired mind, “ _What?_ ”

“Yes. Where you were supposed to be too. Anyway, Barnes passed the trigger word test with flying colors, just like Shuri predicted. Damn, I think she’s even smarter than you Tones. You should see –”

“I gotta go, Platypus. I… We’ll talk soon, ok?” Tony hung up. Barnes had asked _Rhodey?_ Why?

A sense of dread filled Tony as he cut the tape on the box. They had solid security, he wasn’t scared… just unsure what he’d find. The box was very carefully packed. Surrounded by protective foam cushioning he found Barnes’ metal arm. Silver with its red star at the shoulder. Tucked next to it, a note from Shuri.

> Hello Stark! Surprise!! I couldn’t believe it – when I showed Sergeant Barnes the arm I built for him, he said he loved it. Thought you’d want to see the old arm in person since you weren’t able to be here.  
>  I hope this finds you well! Looking forward to meeting you and your Science Bros face-to-face soon!  
>  Kind regards, Shuri.

Tony unpacked the arm, laying it carefully on the work table. It felt so cold now. When he’d fallen asleep sitting next to Barnes, he’d dozed off marveling that the arm was body temperature and speculating how HYDRA had been able to pull it off.

He pulled out the rest of the foam to find carefully wrapped, four roundish objects cushioned with black fabric. Tony’s mouth went dry. Another note. This time in a very tidy, though still nearly illegible script.

> Dear Mr. Stark,  
>  Wanted to tell you I understand. Didn’t think an apology would go well, but I hope you understand that I needed to try anyway. Didn’t feel right to keep these things after all that, though. Not sure you’ll know how much they were needed and appreciated. Thank you.  
>  Sincerely, James Barnes.

Clearly, he and Barnes had interpreted their conversation very differently…. “FRI, can you play the audio from my last call with Barnes?”

Tony listened again and again. Listening now without panicking over having that kind of potential power over another human being, he could hear the Soldier’s voice hitch. Could hear how his own voice sounded harsh. He’d been rejecting the _control_. He didn’t want that kind of power imbalance between them on top of all the other shit. Hadn’t meant to reject the _man_. But that’s what it sounded like to him now too.

_How had this happened?_ The only one of that bunch to actually use the words ‘I’m sorry’ and mean them… No attempt at justification or long-winded explanations. No apologies masking an undertone of blame ( _‘I’m sorry… but if you hadn’t…’_ ). The only one… and Tony’d managed to shoot it down. Reading through the note again, no recrimination. No hostility. Just… resignation.

Tony sank into a chair and thunked his head on the work table. Stomach churning and throat tight, he tried to think his way out of this mess. Tried to reject the idea that kept returning – that maybe part of him had been trying to buy James’ forgiveness. After all, he’d tried to kill the guy too. Neither of them was blameless on that front.

He’d seen the look in the other man’s eyes when the video played in Siberia. The shame. The way Barnes held his gun more like a barrier between them than as a weapon. Tony hadn’t been able to process it at the time, but he’d watched the footage FRIDAY had taken a few times in the past year or so.

Now Tony sat, elbows propped on the table, fingers shoved into his hair. How could he fix this _thing_ they had? No point denying it anymore – at least to himself. He liked James and the fact that Barnes wore those tight shirts from the care packages had to count for something, right?

Tony stared at the photo on his phone of the two of them together sitting on the floor of the Hulk’s playpen. Tony asleep and James turning his head just so – just enough to look for a moment. FRIDAY had suggested it when he’d mumbled the wish out loud for a photo of the two of them together.

Also, in the weeks since the first care package, Tony had reasoned out that ‘James’ was really the only thing he could call Barnes that was personal, but didn’t make either of them sound like an idiot – or ten years old. Nat could get away with the cute Russian riffs on James, but Barnes didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d put up with it from anyone else. Now Tony wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to have that conversation to find out what thoughts James had on the subject.

DUM-E and U had started poking at the arm on the table, making sad beeps and whistles. “Guys, it’s not dead…. It’s an arm. Doesn’t do anything on its own. Just leave it.” The bots trundled sadly away beeping to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, I know! Promise some comforts & communication next chapter! Promise, promise, promise! Probably a day or 2. <3
> 
> I hope you like it!! They do get better at communicating, I promise!! And we haven't seen the last of dreams either... (those will take a few chapters to return, though).


	10. J Is for You-Know-Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders bunched up by his ears. “Hungry?”
> 
> “What?” Summoning any words when he was in that fight or flight headspace was difficult. Barnes had to force it out.
> 
> “I’d like to talk and I’m starving. Thought maybe we could grab a bite?” When Barnes didn’t immediately respond, Tony added, “I know a place not too far that has 24-hour breakfast…. If you want, you can go get some shoes and I’ll meet you in front with the car?”
> 
> And behold! There were pancakes! ;D

When the car brought Barnes and Colonel Rhodes to the Avengers Compound, it was after 3 AM. To Barnes’ surprise, Rhodes brought him to a guest room instead of the Hulk-proof room he’d stayed in before.

“If FRIDAY lets you go somewhere, you’ve got access. If she doesn’t, you don’t. Understood Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. We’ll sort out badge access and a Compound tour tomorrow. Get some sleep.” To FRIDAY, Rhodes said, “FRIDAY, keep an eye on Barnes.”

“Of course, sir,” the AI replied.

Rhodes nodded to himself and left.

“Welcome home, Sergeant,” FRIDAY said in her warm Irish accent.

“Thank you.”

He tried to calm down by taking a shower and unpacking the few things he owned. He’d pictured coming back a hundred times and all were more dramatic in one way or another than the reality. Only a driver at the airport. Everyone at the Compound seemed to be asleep, or at least no one came out to meet them. Did they even know he was coming?

Deciding to see how far he could explore without a physical security detail, he left the room to improve his mental map of his surroundings. After about thirty minutes, FRIDAY asked, “Are you looking for something specific, Sergeant?”

“Uh… no….”

“Can I suggest a left at the stairs, sir?”

“Ok…”

Wandering a few more minutes brought Barnes to the glass-walled side of the lab where he could see Tony slumped against the desk.

“He all right?” He asked FRIDAY. People slumped in odd positions made him uncomfortable. Nervous.

“Sleeping.”

A noise came from the table near Tony. He watched as the sleeping man patted his hand around for his phone, lifting his head to see who was disturbing his rest.

Stark stared at his phone for a moment, then sat bolt upright, looking around him. Wasn’t a call for the Avengers to assemble (probably) – those usually had loud alarms or a flashing visual alarm in the hallways. Finally, Stark turned enough to see Barnes and leapt up out of his chair.

As Barnes sprinted away from the lab on pure instinct to avoid being caught, he heard the swish of the lab’s door opening. He was glad he hadn’t worn socks. Bare feet had better traction on the polished floor.

“James! Wait!” Tony’s voice called down the length of the hall.

Barnes stopped, blood rushing in his ears, heart in his throat. Body tensed, ready to turn and run.

Tony wore a faded t-shirt and jeans stained with something – grease maybe? – and old sneakers. Now that he had the Soldier’s attention, Stark looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders bunched up by his ears. “Hungry?”

“What?” Summoning any words when he was in that fight or flight headspace was difficult. Barnes had to force it out.

“I’d like to talk and I’m starving. Thought maybe we could grab a bite?” When Barnes didn’t immediately respond, Tony added, “I know a place not too far that has 24-hour breakfast…. If you want, you can go get some shoes and I’ll meet you in front with the car?”

This time, when Barnes turned and ran to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time, Tony made no effort to stop him.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony waited in front in his silver Audi for ten minutes. It took a while to get around the Compound. And Barnes had been there for a few hours at most? Even at super-soldier speeds it’d take some time. After twenty minutes, that particular argument started to fade. At the forty-minute mark, Tony had given up any actual hope, but he if he put the car back in the garage, he’d be admitting a defeat he wasn’t ready to own yet.

At an hour, he knew James wasn’t coming. Leaned forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. The panicked look Tony had seen in James’s eyes hurt almost as much as the empty resignation he’d noticed from time to time. _Your fault this time, Stark._ He’d have to make an effort to think of him as Barnes. Maybe Sergeant. _Just please not Bucky…._

Tap, tap on the glass of the passenger side window. “Ty v poryadke?” _Are you okay?_ J – … Barnes looked wary, but he was there.

Tony swallowed the lump of relief in his throat, “Yeah… Fine. I… wasn’t sure you were coming. Um… door’s open.”

Barnes got in the car, but sat practically pressed against the door. The fact that the guy could and actually might leap out of the car at any moment – regardless of whether or not the car was moving – did nothing to ease Tony’s nerves. When had he last been this nervous on a date? _Not that this was a date…._ Well, it didn’t matter when it had been. It was a long-ass time ago.

“So… take the scenic route?” Tony asked.

The Soldier shook his head. “Pytajus' ponjat' skol'ko deneg mne nujno.” _Trying to decide how much money to take out._

“Oh.” Eloquent Stark. Really in top form tonight. Still, James was in the car with him – even if he stared out the window like he wished he was somewhere else.

At a stop light, Tony watched Barnes’ lips twitch ever so slightly, trying to find the words he wanted in the right language. “You wanted to talk?”

Straight to the point. Cut through the niceties…. “Yeah. I got your package. I think we understood that conversation differently.” Tony pulled into the parking lot of the diner and parked the car. “Since we talked, I’ve been trying to decide if I could handle that…. You know – having that kind of power over you. If it hadn’t worked, I mean. Rhodey said you passed with flying colors….”

Barnes rolled his eyes and huffed. “Flying colors? I threw up off and on for an hour afterward and it gave me a migraine. Don’t have to… otvechat. _Comply._ But resisting hurts.”

“You tell them that?”

“I tried,” Barnes shrugged. They sat silent in the car for a long moment. Barnes peered through his hair to look at Tony. “What did you decide?”

“About what? Oh, the triggers?”

Barnes nodded.

Tony leaned his head back against the head rest. “It’s a good thing you took matters into your own hands. Kept going between not wanting to have that kind of asset/handler power dynamic between us and thinking that it was your decision to make and I should get over myself.” Tony sighed. “Read your note and realized maybe that’s not what it sounded like to you though.” He swallowed, “Didn’t mean to reject you…. That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. I killed them. Tried to kill you too.” Voice flat, Barnes looked ahead through the windshield into the pre-dawn twilight.

“Berlin doesn’t count – you were the Soldier.”

“I _am_ the Soldier.”

“Meant that you were on a mission – that you weren’t acting under your own volition…. I’ve watched the video a few times since then…. Both of them, actually.” Tony turned as much as he could in the space between the seat of the car and the steering wheel. _God, where was he going with this?_

“Ty ishesh' opravdanija moim postupcam.” Barnes rubbed his forehead, looking exhausted, “ _You’re making excuses for me_.” He sounded angry? Defensive? Tony couldn’t tell. Barnes went on, “Got one for Siberia?”

“I tried to kill you first?” What else could Tony say with those stormy blue eyes watching him like that?

Barnes laughed once without mirth. “Why do you want so badly for me to be innocent? Your forgiveness or whatever this is doesn’t smyt' krov' – _wash away the blood_. Their blood is on my hands. I complied – killed people – because I’m a coward.” Tony realized the man’s cheeks were wet with tears.

Tony caught some of the defensiveness, “First. Stop right there – _compliance_ isn’t consent. Two totally different fucking things. Not wanting the goddamn Nazi mad scientist division to _torture or kill you_? Doesn’t make you a coward.” The heat left Tony’s voice. “Look, I know nothing I can say is gonna change what’s going on upstairs for you,” Tony tapped the side of his head, “But I think if you had a choice that you’d rather not fight.” He sagged back into the car seat. Tired all over again Tony said, “I think that’s why I’m making excuses for you.”

Tony could see Barnes scanning his face for tells, blue-grey eyes wide. “Uveren?” Barnes closed his eyes, frustrated. Trying to calm down so the words he wanted would come more readily. “ _Are you sure_?” 

“Yeah.” Saying it, Tony realized that it was true – not just a convenient white lie until he could convince himself it was the truth. Barnes was still watching him, so Tony continued, “You came out of cryo and held Captain America at gun point to defend me.” He thought some of the anxiety had drained away from Barnes. With a tired smile, Tony added, “And, probably most importantly, nobody else thinks I’m funny. You do. Everybody else? ‘Tony – no.’ ‘Tony… _stop_.’ Or my favorite, ‘ _Goddammit_ Tony!’ Not you.”

“Tvoi ruki drozhat, kogda my vmeste.” _Your hands shake when we’re together._ Barnes chewed his lip, hesitant.

“That’s not because I’m afraid of you.”

“It’s not?”

Tony shook his head, “Have you looked in a mirror lately gorgeous?”

The super-soldier ran his fingers through his hair and Tony had to suppress a shiver. “I look like hell.”

“Sinful maybe, but that’s not a bad thing.” The words were out before Tony could stop them. Those weeks – months – of keeping his mental commentary about Barnes to himself must be catching up. God, he couldn’t tell what James was thinking… but at least he didn’t look angry or disgusted.

Barnes slowly took one of Tony’s hands, watching his face carefully and giving Tony plenty of time to pull away or take his hand back. Turning Tony’s hand palm up, in a low voice asked, “Pochemu oni drozhat?” _Why do they shake?_

Was the guy really asking him _‘Why do your hands shake?’_ while giving him that look? _With those eyes?_ Barnes had to know already…. Tony remembered hearing Rogers talk about how popular Bucky had been with the ladies back in the day…. He wondered if there’d been an audible noise in Brooklyn as thousands of ladies (and gentlemen) pulled up their panties when Barnes went off to war. The sigh of disappointment probably was – that’s for sure.

Still lost somewhere in James’ eyes, Tony swallowed, hearing a dry click in his throat and his heart pounding in his ears. Why do my hands shake? _Because you’re so beautiful I can’t think straight. Because if I’m speechless at this and you’re not even trying, my brain is going to leak out of my ears when you start actually flirting with me and I will literally have a heart attack and die._ Tony’s voice cracked, “’Cause I keep getting it wrong with you… and I don’t want to mess this up.” James’ expression didn’t change for a moment and Tony added, “There **is** a _this_ , a thing between us, right?”

Very slowly, James leaned down and lifted Tony’s hand, kissing the dip in his palm. Voice still the same low rumble, “Nadejus'.” _I hope so._

Well… they didn’t need to have a conversation about whether or not they were both into guys. _Hellooooo nurse._ Whether they were ever going to leave the car on the other hand….

The crowd of twenty-somethings returning to the cars on either side of Tony’s Audi broke up the moment inside the car. On the other hand, Tony was hungry.

Walking in, he was less sure of his restaurant choice. Apparently, this was _the_ place for post-club drunk dining in the area. Tony knew the place was gay-friendly (the rainbow sign kind of gave it away) but had never been in at this time of night (early morning?) before. He could honestly say he’d never seen so many hot pants and false eyelashes since that conference where he’d hired the dancers to do a floor show prior to his presentation for Stark Industries.

Tony stood at the ‘Please wait to be seated’ sign worrying whether all the people and the noise would bother James or not. He felt a tug on his wrist and realized James was leading him toward a booth in the back. “Hvatit piyalitsa.” _Quit staring._ Tony let his fingers intertwine with James’ as they weaved their way through the groups of club kids enjoying their carbs.

"Why are we sitting in the big booth?”

“’Cause I’m hungry and I gave the waitress forty bucks.”

“Sorry – I didn’t realize it’d be so crowded.”

James waved his hand as if to say ‘whatever’ as he studied the menu intently. Tony was making a game of trying to figure out what James was going to order, but his train of thought was interrupted. “Ey – are we coming back sometime soon?”

“Whenever you want Robocop. Having trouble deciding?”

“Uje net.” _Not anymore._

A couple of minutes later, Tony ordered his cheeseburger and fries (no onions, no ketchup) with a cup of coffee. With the quantities of chocolate Natasha shipped to Wakanda, Tony fully expected James to order the Chocolate Sin pancakes – three pancakes layered with chocolate ganache, raspberry jam, and whipped cream with a dusting of powdered sugar on top. Instead, he also ordered a cheeseburger and fries (no onions, extra pickles) with a Coke. At this point, both Tony and the waitress thought he was done ordering and she started to walk away.

“Podozhdite - ya mogu zakazat' chto-to yeshche?” _Wait – can I get something else too?_

The waitress stopped and turned around. Tony cringed inwardly – not everybody out in the sticks tolerated people speaking other languages. (The Compound was purposely located far enough away from the city to be considered ‘the sticks.’) “You need somethin’ else, honey?”

James nodded, looking hopeful. “A bowl of clam chowder,” he pointed to the menu, “And a stack of the Cherry Supreme pancakes.” He smiled just enough.

The waitress (the nametag said ‘Betty’) looked him up and down and said, “You workout some, huh?”

James held his fingers apart for ‘just a little bit.’

“Ain’t from around here, are you?”

Shaking his head, James said, “Brooklyn.”

Betty the waitress tsk-ed sympathetically, “Well, you’re among friends here, honey,” and patted his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a total softie, so all the cries of dismay after the last 2 chapters made me post this one today rather than tomorrow. Hopefully this will tide you over a little longer. (I'm working on M, so I'm still ahead of you guys, but like to have a little time to tweak things after a chapter is finished).


	11. K Is for Killjoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James went with him to the tuxedo fitting. Tony was giving Pepper away. He and Pepper had staged a big press conference to welcome Spider-Man to the Avengers, but when Peter Parker decided to stay in high school, they’d told the press they were getting married instead… as a sort-of placeholder so their friends in the press wouldn’t be disappointed. He and Pepper later released a short statement quietly cancelling, and some of the media got the hint, but not all of it.

Over the next few weeks, it just kind of became their thing. Mondays for lunch – to give Tony something to look forward to on a Monday. Saturday late night – because why break a fledgling tradition? And Tuesday nights around ten since it was quieter. By the time the late-night dinners rolled around, James was usually ready to eat, having had enough time to process his therapy and BARF sessions a bit.

Tony couldn’t quite help but feel that these weren’t quite dates. More like opportunities to spend time together without full Avengers oversight. They held hands across the table. Talked. It was nice to just get to know each other. Even the lulls in their conversations didn’t feel strange.

Sometimes, when James was just tired and overwhelmed, he held up a hand and they just touched fingertips, hands tented together. When Tony thought about it later alone in his room, he thought it might be one of the most intimate gestures he’d ever experienced.

James didn’t ask anything from him, seemed content just to be together. It was great… but weird. Even Pepper had wanted things from him – _reasonable_ things like to sign papers, show up for their dinner dates, have a closet that contained shirts… not nano-particle Iron Man suits. And that was why they’d split up over and over again and eventually, she’d realized that Happy was the guy who held the door for her, who showed up, and who wore real-people shirts. So, two of Tony’s best friends were getting married to each other in a few weeks.

James went with him to the tuxedo fitting. Tony was giving Pepper away. He and Pepper had staged a big press conference to welcome Spider-Man to the Avengers, but when Peter Parker decided to stay in high school, they’d told the press they were getting married instead… as a sort-of placeholder so their friends in the press wouldn’t be disappointed. He and Pepper later released a short statement quietly cancelling, and some of the media got the hint, but not all of it. Even now there were a few gossip magazines that had elaborate theories about the lengths he and Pepper were going to in order to maintain their privacy. _Poor Happy._

The tuxedo fitting went well, but Tony noticed that James looked sad. Sort of a ‘looking out at the sea’ kind of sad. “What’s up, Sugar Pop?”

James’ eyes came back from wherever his thoughts had led him, and he smiled, but his eyes still looked sad. “Nothin’ moya zhelezochka. Prosto dumaju.” _Nothing, my piece of iron. Just thinking._

“Well, think about getting a suit, WarGames. Pepper won’t approve of black t-shirts and jeans at her wedding.” Tony frowned, “And stop calling me your _whatever_ if you’re not going to tell me what it means.”

“FRIDAY doesn’t translate?” Ah... a little twinkle came back to James’ eyes.

Folding his arms, Tony said, “No. She says that’s private and none of her business.”

James leaned into the back of the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, “She and I have a deal.”

“What deal?”

“She keeps some things private and… I don’t tell you about her secret crush.”

“My babygirl does _not_ have any secret crushes.”

James shrugged noncommittally, “I’ve already said too much.”

“She doesn’t! I’d know!” Tony protested.

The super-soldier’s lips quirked up, “I’m sure you would, _moya zhelezochka._ ”

Tony stuck his tongue out at James, to the horror of the tailor doing the fitting. James looked amused, relaxed, but the small smile didn’t quite touch his eyes, where the sadness still hovered.

Standing in front of James, Tony held up his hand, fingers spread almost unconsciously. After a brief, but noticeable (to Tony anyway) pause, James raised his hand and touched his fingertips to Tony’s. In a quieter voice, meant just for the two of them, Tony asked, “If something was bothering you, you’d tell me, right?” James didn’t say anything, just curled his fingers between Tony’s. Moving closer, Tony brushed the hair away from James’ face, “I don’t know what’s going on in there if you don’t tell me, beautiful.”

James looked past Tony, back into that sad space – no… _lonely_ , Tony realized. Then James leaned forward and rested his forehead against Tony’s stomach and mumbled something. It was the most physical contact they’d had since Tony fell asleep on his shoulder back before Wakanda.

“What? I’m old – you gotta speak up Soldier," Tony said gently.

When he looked up, the defeated look of misery that met Tony’s eyes for a moment before James’ glance slid away again hurt like someone biting away pieces of Tony’s heart. “Ja ne hochu idti.” _I don’t want to go._ James spoke so softly that Tony almost couldn’t hear him, and the ragged edge of his voice tore at Tony’s breaking heart. “If you ask me to, I will… but pozhalujsta, ne prosite menya smotret' yeto.” _Please don’t ask me to watch that._ “I just can’t… not when it’s you Antosha.”

Mental gears spun in Tony’s mind. _What the hell was he talking about?_ “This about the wedding?” Tony ventured.

James nodded, eyes closed, and pressed his cheek into their linked fingers.

Finally, the pieces started fitting together in Tony’s mind. As gently as he could while mentally berating every paparazzi celebrity journalist in the world, Tony said, “ _Pepper’s_ getting married – not me.”

James looked up at him, hearing the words, but not really comprehending. “Huh?”

“Pepper’s marrying Happy.” No… James still looked confused… like his brain was stuck on a reboot. _‘Do not turn off your computer. This may take a while.’_ Tony tried to elaborate, “Happy Hogan? Head of Security for Stark Industries?”

“Really?” James’ eyes studied Tony closely. _‘Configuring critical updates 34% complete.’_

Tony nodded, then frowned slightly, “How long you been under the impression it was me and Pep?”

“Flight to Wakanda with Natka and Steve.” _‘Restarting….’_ “Just… khotel byt' ryadom s toboy.” _Wanted to be close to you_. And Jesus, that _look_ … the fierce intensity that glowed in James’ eyes… that was the difference between having pancakes with a friend you maybe hold hands with and the guy you’re on a date with. 

“Close enough now?” Tony managed not to squeak, thank God.

“Nyet, moya zhelezochka.” James stood, placing his hands loosely on Tony’s hips, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

How could such a small token of affection feel like a tattoo across his forehead, _‘If lost, please return to James B. Barnes?’_ When James glanced down and then back up through his eyelashes after licking his lips, Tony knew he was a goner for sure. _Good-bye heart. Enjoy your new home._ “Can you tell me what that means now?”

Something that looked an awful lot like a smirk flitted over James’ face. He leaned close to Tony’s ear to whisper, “Zhelezochka is _piece of iron_ ,” moving to a more socially acceptable distance, he added, “But cute.”

Tony felt the hot, rapid burn of a blush. Probably from the neck up. “I’m not cute.”

“Ty milyi.” _You’re cute_. To the tailor awkwardly observing their whole moment, James said, “We like this one,” and smoothed the lapels on Tony’s tuxedo jacket.

The words by themselves sizzled with all kinds of promises.

After finishing up with the tailor, they’d gone to The Battery and James had told Tony how he remembered his mother taking him and his sisters there to the aquarium. “That was before it moved to Coney Island.”

Now, sitting across from one another in a café nearby, James was looking at Tony, eyebrow raised skeptically. “Let me get this straight. Your closest friends are Pepper Potts, Rhodey Rhodes, and Happy Hogan? Real names Virginia, James, and Harold. But you think it’d be weird to call me Bucky Barnes?”

“I made bad decisions when I was fifteen... And thirty. Really, decision-making isn’t my strong suit… Anyway, in my defense, all those names are actually still pretty good. Even Pepper’s mom calls her Pepper.” Tony felt kind of smug about that even now – almost fifteen years later.

“So, it’s because Steve thought of it?” If anything, James seemed a little entertained.

“Probably not? Just seems weird to call a grown man Bucky.” Tony leaned forward over the table. His right leg currently imprisoned by James’ legs. “Trying to imagine myself calling it out in the throes of ecstasy and it just seems like it’d sound creepy.” Sighing, Tony said, “If you _really_ want me to call you Bucky, I will. Because I’m just that great.”

“Mne vse ravno – as long as I know you’re talkin’ about me.” _I don’t care…_ He brushed his thumb over Tony’s lips. “Sakharnaya pudra.” _Powdered sugar_.

Tony was pretty sure this was just a plausible lie, since he had an almond croissant when they arrived at the café. That was probably an hour ago, though. Glancing at his watch, no… make that an hour and a half ago. This was not going to leave much time for the Museum of Modern Art, which was supposed to be their next stop.

And now Tony’s phone was buzzing. _Rhodey_. “Hey, Gum Drop. What’s up?”

“Erik Selvig’s back with that assistant of his. You were supposed to meet them an hour ago?” Rhodey sounded perturbed.

“Oh… I was… getting my tux squared away for the wedding.” If Tony sounded distracted (he did), it was because he noticed James reading the _New York Times Online_ with the Frankenbaby. The City section by the looks of it as the screen flickered from a normal white background to cyan.

“That was over three hours ago Tones. And what’s this I see on Twitter? You’re on a _date_?”

“It started out as errands…” Completely true. Then they just decided to go to the park on their way for coffee. At the park, they talked about going to the museum, but by the sound of it, that trip was going to be pushed to another day.

Tony listened to Rhodey’s description of Selvig’s arrival, the short version of what Thor was up to in Norway with _Loki_. Loki’s presence wasn’t the weirdest thing about it either…. _God(s), what was the world coming to?_ James was now biting his lip, working the crossword puzzle.

In a low voice James asked him, “Anne Hathaway’s role in ‘ _Becoming Jane_?’ Six letters.”

“Austen.”

James nodded once, acknowledging.

Rhodey sighed, “What? _Tony_. Come on – tell me you’ve been paying attention and that I haven’t just been talking to myself here.”

“I’ve been paying attention and you haven’t just been talking to yourself.” Tony repeated obediently.

“Michael of R.E.M.?” James glanced up at Tony, eyebrow raised as if he didn’t quite believe this was a clue real people would know the answer to.

“Stipe. S-T-I-P-E.”

“Tony. Avengers business. Science. _Diplomacy_?” Rhodey emphasized each word, trying to demand Tony's attention.

“M-hm.” Now Tony wasn’t really listening anymore. He was watching James who kept tucking the same piece of hair over his ear only to have it keep slowly falling back into his face.

“FRIDAY? Give me a photo of Tony’s date.” Tony’s heart thumped in his chest and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t hear what FRIDAY told Rhodey, just his reaction, “You are _not_ buffering! Bring up that photo!”

In Tony’s ear, FRIDAY murmured, “Sorry Boss.”

“ _What?!_ ” The disbelief mingled with outrage got Tony’s attention. “Tony Stark, we are going to have _words_ when you get back. As close to **_now_** as humanly possible.” Wow - Rhodey hadn't sounded that angry since... the time Tony fell asleep in the Hulk-proof room.

Rhodey’s exclamation was loud enough that even James heard and looked up questioningly at Tony. “Rhodey’s on to us, Sugar Pop.” He paused, glancing at the phone. “I mean Robocop.”

James patted Tony’s hand. “Gilda of _Saturday Night Live_?”

“Radner. R-A – ”

“Ya znayu kak pishetsya Radner.” _I can spell Radner._

Rhodey sighed again, “You know I’m gonna have to tell Pepper.” The man formerly-known-as Tony’s best friend let that threat hang in the air as he hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... sorry @DemonicReader for all the probably gender-related issues with the Russian here. T.T (I try!!!) Also a big shout-out to @Delphyn - first chapter with a real beta and I think it's definitely better for it!! Thanks again!!
> 
> I want to thank @araydre for their [beautiful artwork!](http://araydre.tumblr.com/post/179659437832/for-psychiccatpanda-3-thank-you-so-much-for)


	12. L Is for Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Tony looked kind of pissed off driving back up the interstate toward the New Avengers Compound. He wasn’t sure if he should try talking or if he should give Tony some space. Or should he try reaching out to hold hands? To be reassuring. This felt like a boyfriend test and he was failing. Clearly, he was out of his league here. Was there a league for mostly un-brainwashed ex-assassins?

The first part of the drive back was quiet, which was a little odd since Tony usually had plenty to talk about. Barnes looked out the window into an afternoon that had turned from overcast to rainy. He liked the way ‘James’ sounded in Tony’s mouth. The names and nicknames leaving Tony’s lips felt like little gifts scattered throughout the day.

Now Rhodes knew. _What next?_ True, Tony wasn’t getting married, but on the other hand, exactly zero of the guys Barnes had been involved with in the past stuck around when things got even remotely difficult. Seemed like Tony was different, though. After all, if either of them was after something easy, they’d look elsewhere, right?

On the other hand, Tony looked kind of pissed off driving back up the interstate toward the New Avengers Compound. He wasn’t sure if he should try talking or if he should give Tony some space. Or should he try reaching out to hold hands? To be reassuring. This felt like a boyfriend test and he was failing. Clearly, he was out of his league here. Was there a league for mostly un-brainwashed ex-assassins?

His phone lit up with Natasha’s photo. At least Steve had given up trying to call. “Privet?” _Hello?_

“Hi Yasha – hope you guys had a good time.”

“Bolee ili menee.” _More or less._

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” James replied without hesitation.

“Did Steve really not know?”

“About Tony?”

“Well, that too – but I meant the fact that you’re gay.” Natasha let that fact hang in the air a moment.

“No… and no.”

“You never told him?” she sounded slightly incredulous.

“No.” After a stubborn silence from Natasha, he huffed out an irritated sigh, “No. I never told him. He can be kind of self-righteous sometimes? Maybe you noticed? Anyway, he’d just vsypal by mne po pervoe chislo. So I just skipped it.” _…he’d just give me hell if he knew about it._

“Well he’s kind of freaking out about it.”

“Sorry you have to deal with it,” James said sullenly.

Natasha half-laughed, “I’m not. This is _your_ problem. _You_ get to fix it, Yasha.” She hung up.

Tony didn’t look away from the road, but asked, “Trouble?”

“Vsegda.” _Always._ He tried to make an effort to pull some of the words out of the air around him. Voice some of his thoughts. “I never told Steve.”

“About us going out? ‘Cause I can kinda see that.” Tony gestured with his fingers, “Didn’t tell Rhodey… or Pepper.”

“Yeah, and that I’m not interested in women.”

“Rhodey outed you?” Now Tony sounded _really_ mad.

James shrugged, “Guess so. Steve’s goin’ off on Natka and now she’s mad at me too.”

Steve’s photo flashed up on his phone again. “Ey?”

Immediately, he wished he hadn’t answered since Steve just began a verbal assault with rapid-fire questions, half-assumed truths, and trying to form plans to counter whatever it was that he was talking about.

When Steve took a breath, James interrupted, “Po-medlennee. You’re talkin’ too fast, punk. Givin’ me a headache.” _Take it slower._ In Steve’s defense, the headache had started a few minutes earlier, but Steve yammering on a mile-a-minute did _not_ help.

“Is this something HYDRA did to you?” Steve demanded.

“No, HYDRA did not make me go on a date with Tony.” James tried hard not to clench his teeth or to grind them, but it was an uphill battle.

Steve bit out a retort, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“And I didn’t think you were a moron, but here we are havin’ this conversation.” From the corner of his eye, James saw Tony reach for something tucked just behind the seat. A bakery bag.

Tony handed it to him, whispering, “In case of emergency, tear bag.” One of those brownies with extra walnuts (no frosting), which James liked better than the sticky ones with caramel or cream cheese.

James ate while Steve ranted. A few minutes later, Tony pulled over. When James looked at him, eyebrows raised, asking the silent question, ‘Why?’ Tony whispered, “You look like you could bite the heads off nails – thought you might need to pace around or something.”

Pacing around _did_ help. So did being able to raise his voice without shouting in Tony’s ear. Once able to get a word in edgewise, James said, “Sounds like you’re yelling at me for something I had nothing to do with.”

“I’m yelling because I care about you, stupid! What do you think all this is gonna get you anyway?”

“All this?” Steve was lucky they were having this argument over the phone. The chance of him having all his teeth at the end of this convo if it was face-to-face was slim to none. As it was, he had to switch the phone to his right hand, so he didn’t accidentally crush it. “The fuck that’s supposed to mean, Rogers?”

James glanced up to see Tony’s eyebrows rise and eyes widen. Clearly, _he_ knew Steve was skating on thin ice with the switch from ‘Steve’ to ‘Rogers.’ Tony made a big gesture of taking a deep breath. James tried to breathe and count down from ten to one, but Steve made it so _hard_.

“I just don’t get it…. Say all that’s true. Why’d you take all those girls out dancing?” Steve asked, as if that was proof of anything.

“’Cause I liked dancing and you like girls.”

“You’re telling me all those girls and you never…?” Steve let the question dangle, implying as much innuendo as he could.

“Only once. Thought maybe it wouldn’t seem so… protivno,” James tried breathing again. “ _Gross…_ if I tried it.”

“And?” Steve prodded.

“Why do you even want to know this stuff? It was just as gross as I thought,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“And Tony’s better?”

“Nesomnenno.” _Definitely._

“What?”

“Yes, Steve.” This was not the first time James rolled his eyes during their conversation. “An’ before you ask anymore awkward questions? Ask yourself – do you really want the answers?”

 _Finally!_ A blessed pause. _Silence._ When Steve spoke again, he sounded calmer, but still concerned, “You really think he’s gonna be good for you?”

James smiled, “Already is.”

Steve sighed, “Just trying to wrap my mind around this, you know. Not trying to be dense or offensive.”

“I know. Sometimes you don’t hafta try.”

Offended, “Hey!” Then Steve gasped, “Oh my God… Charlie Butler! You and he were… That’s why his wife stabbed you!”

A leer slowly spread across James’ face, “Oh yeah… I remember Charlie…. He was _cute_.”

“He was thirty!”

“I’m thirty,” James sounded slightly defensive in his own ears.

“Weren’t then, jerk.”

“Was over 18 – nothing wrong with that.”

His eyes flicked up to Tony again, who noticing his glance, mouthed, ‘Who’s Charlie?’

“Gotta go, Steve.”

“Yeah, all right. See you when you get back.”

Tony walked over with a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. “It’s all they had at the mini-mart.”

James took them, but stared at Tony.

“What? You told Rogers you’ve got a headache, right? Walked over there when you started yelling and… ta-da!”

“Volshebstvo.” _Sorcery._

Tony laughed. God, he’d never get tired of that sound or the way Tony’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth partially open, showing all those teeth. Tony’s stage smiles or sarcastic smiles never had teeth…. He knew Tony smiled at other people too – real smiles – but not often as far as he’d seen.

Still smiling, Tony asked, “Ready to get going?”

 _No._ Want to stay here with you where Colonel Rhodes can’t take you away from me. He shrugged, then reached out and brushed his fingers over Tony’s cheek. “Pochemu ty tak dobr ko mne?” _Why are you so kind to me?_

Frowning slightly, Tony said, “You know, you’re setting the bar kind of low – right? Not wanting your date to be in _physical pain_ should totally be a given.”

Softly James said, “Spasibo,” _Thank you._ and gave Tony a light kiss on the cheek.

Tony responded, “Pozhalujsta.” _You’re welcome._ Tony’s eyes twinkled, “ _That_ you should be impressed with, WarGames.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The instant of shock that washed over James’ face followed by a small disbelieving smile warmed Tony’s heart. He’d been learning a little bit of Russian off and on – mostly trying to keep up with Natasha, but now that he was spending more time with James, Tony made more of an effort. He was currently on the ‘community’ and ‘asking directions’ sections of the conversational Russian audio lessons. So now he could ask Natasha or James how to get to the library in English, Italian, or Russian. _Fancy._

James’ apparent reluctance to depart lingered though. The contradiction between someone so confident of their physical abilities and yet so hesitant about most social interactions tugged at Tony’s heartstrings. Made him want to just give the guy a big hug.

Well… _why not_? They were still standing close enough to touch already…. Tony slipped his arms around James and instantly felt the super-soldier’s body tense. _Shit._ Should’ve asked – warned him. Let James initiate the physical contact he was comfortable with. Just as Tony started to let go and apologize, he felt a hand rest lightly on his hip and an arm wrap around his shoulders – tentatively at first, then with more certainty.

Tony felt the tension draining out of the Soldier’s body as he breathed and eased into Tony’s arms, nose nestled in Tony’s hair. Truth be told, it’d been awhile since anyone had held Tony like this too. Tony rested his forehead on James’ shoulder and inhaled. _Almonds and bay rum._ He may have sighed like a schoolgirl, though he wasn’t going to confess that publicly.

What was James saying, though? At first, all Tony could hear was the low rumble in the other man’s throat, but gradually, the words, softly repeated every few breaths, filtered through. “Ty tak dobr ko mne.” _You’re so good to me._

While that made Tony feel all kinds of warmth and butterflies, it also made him wish that time travel was a thing so that he could tear apart whoever made James think that getting a (really very chaste) comforting hug from his boyfriend was some kind of fucking miracle.

 _Boyfriend?_ Well Stark, when two people really like each other… _Seriously, where did you think this was headed that you’re surprised by that thought?_ Well, honestly, he’d never thought it’d get to this point. Expected James to get tired of the Tony Stark brand of humor, late nights, and diner food. Maybe realize that bouts of insomnia plus PTSD, plus a very active mind do not necessarily combine to make a solid foundation for a relationship partner?

Thinking about his own insecurities this way, led Tony down another mental path. He raised his head and James looked at him, “What?”

Tony worked up his courage. This needed to be said for a comfortable ride home. “Uh… just wanted to make sure you knew that there’s nothing Rhodey can tell me that I don’t already know.” Tony took a deep breath as he felt the tension creeping back into James’ muscles. Swallowing, Tony went on, “After Siberia… I wanted to _understand_ … so I just kept reading the files, um… pretty much whatever I could find about you. I guess I started to feel bad for you…” James stiffened. “But then you were back and you’re just _you_. And you were ready to shoot Rogers? A little scary, but kinda hot? And I don’t know… the way you hold yourself? That you make _jokes_? Funny ones!” _Shit._ He was totally rambling.

James, less tense, was looking at him like he was trying to figure out where this was headed. And also, _maybe,_ just a little amused. “And?”

“And… well… I really like you and nothing Rhodey can say will change that.” A little embarrassed now, Tony could feel a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Cupping Tony’s cheek, James murmured, “Ty takoj milyi.” _You’re so cute._ “Ya mog by s"yest' tebya.” _I could eat you up._ Brushing his lips across Tony’s and then kissing once, twice, three times.

In Tony’s imagination, each kiss said, ‘Mine. Mine. Mine.’ He moved a hand to the back of James’ neck and pulled him in for more. Lips parting, and the whole world tasted like chocolate and smelled like bay rum and almonds. He hadn’t even realized they were moving until he felt the car behind him and James leaned into him, one hand on the side of Tony’s neck, the other rubbing his hip. Tony could feel the cool metal of James’ finger tips _just_ brush the skin under his shirt.

A horn blared, bringing them both back to the reality that they were making out in a gravel parking lot next to a truck stop. Some teenagers shouted, “Get a room!”

Tony’s eyes found James’ which seemed bluer now since his pupils were larger. “Guess we don’t have to worry about the chemistry between us…. Or whether all the usual equipment is functioning properly.” Then Tony noticed. “You’ve got freckles.” He was trying to be flirty and tease, but his voice sounded a little too husky for that.

“Do not.”

“Yes, you do. Just a few on the top of your cheeks.”

“You’re makin’ stuff up.” James let go of Tony to open the ibuprofen and take a drink of water. “Pepper has freckles, huh?”

“It’s why I called her Pepper. Well – one of the reasons.”

“A little lemon juice oughta take care of them,” James said casually before taking another drink of water.

“James Barnes you are not burning off your freckles with citric acid!”

Caught mid-swallow, James coughed and spluttered. _Laughing._ None of those little half-laughs or quiet chuckles. He kept glancing at Tony and then laughing harder.

Feeling a little affronted, Tony folded his arms in front of him, waiting for the hilarity to die down.

“You…” James stopped to wipe his eyes and snicker, trying to control the laughter. “You… should’ve seen –” (He failed and burst into laughter again). “Your face!”

Tony tilted his head to the side, “You just trolled me. Should’ve known I’d fall for a troll.” He sighed dramatically, but mostly enjoyed the smile lighting up James’ face. Of course, he also had the satisfaction of being right – both about the freckles and that laughing practically turned James Barnes into a whole new person. Someone he might not have recognized as being the same guy – happy, goofy, maybe even a little dorky.

“I fell farther.”

“No way, sunshine – I fell from space...” It was hard to one-up a near fatal fall from a speeding train in the Swiss Alps during World War 2, but the whole wormhole experience was apparently worth something after all – aside from panic attacks and not nuking New York City.

If it was possible to look simultaneously _really_ impressed and _extremely_ concerned, James pulled it off in spades. “ _What?_ ”

“Well, technically it was a wormhole in the upper atmosphere shortcut to space, but I did fly through and steer a nuclear warhead into an alien spaceship.”

James drove on the way back listening to Tony explain about how the whole Avengers Initiative started, Loki leading the Chitauri invasion of New York, and ultimately how he flew the nuke through the wormhole. It was the Cliffs Notes version, but still took most of the remaining ride home.

After hearing how the Hulk caught Tony, slowing the Iron Man suit enough to stop him from being turned into ‘strawberry jam,’ James muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Need to put you in bubble wrap.”

Parking the car in the garage at the Compound, James rested his head on the head rest and closed his eyes. “What else?”

“What do you mean, ‘what else?’”

James looked at him with the Winter Soldier _‘you know what I’m talking about’_ glare.

“If you’re hoping I’m a guy who’s made a lot of safe, sane life choices, you’re gonna be disappointed, WarGames.” Tony took a deep breath, “Few years ago, I told a group of terrorists my home address.”

James turned and glared at him disbelievingly.

“Yeah, went about how you’d expect….” Tony sighed. “Did solve the giant rabbit problem though. Nobody told you about that? Well, you’d hear about it eventually anyway….”

Walking to the elevator, Tony let his hand fall to his side after gesturing to try to convey the size of the stuffed rabbit he’d bought for Pepper that Christmas and sighing in defeat at James giving him almost the same look Pepper had when confronted with the fuzzy monstrosity.

After a moment, he felt James’ pinkie finger hook around his own. For a day full of public displays of affection, this seemed a little tame, but it still gave Tony butterflies. On the other hand, they were home. With all their friends. And a bunch of contract employees, SHIELD agents, and administrative staff… scientists, handful of engineers… and James was still seeking physical contact. “Nervous?”

The Soldier’s shoulder’s shrugged with a practiced nonchalance, but his facial expression told a different story. “My dejstvitel'no…?” _We’re really…?_

“Unless you say otherwise, you’re stuck with me – giant rabbits and all.”

Slipping his arm around Tony’s waist, James said, “Bet it was comfy.”

Tony glanced at him, “What was?”

“Krolik. Like to sleep on or something.” _The rabbit…_ Tony was staring and forced himself to blink. Was the Winter Soldier, James – _his boyfriend_ – sticking up for the giant bunny? “You know… soft… Udobnyi.” _Comfortable._ James stopped talking, embarrassed.

“If you want a twenty-foot tall stuffed bunny, Robocop – I can make that happen,” Tony said a little too quickly.

“I meant more… gipoteticheski…” Barnes tapped his forehead, thinking, “ _Hypothetically._ ” Pleased to find the word. “If I’ve got you, don’t need anything else.”

Tony was just tilting his head up to kiss James again when the elevator door opened… revealing both Rhodey and Steve Rogers waiting for them, arms folded. Tony saw James’ emotional shutters come down again, masking the vulnerability under the surface. _Nobody here interested in snuggly fun times._

James, looking distinctly more soldier-y, started to walk out of the elevator. Tony caught his hand and James turned to him. Whispering, Tony said, “Hey, there’s no stuffed animals for guys who kill their best friends….”

James huffed a chuckle, corners of his mouth twitching up, murmuring, “So is that yes on killing or no?”

Tony leaned up and kissed the corner of James’ mouth. Just to reassure him. _Yup. That’s all._ “No.”

Feigning disappointment, James shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘fine – have it your way….’

Steve took a step forward, stern expression on his face. And not too far away, the sound of a baby wailing broke up the moment. Steve rolled his eyes, stalking off to retrieve his phone, “Dammit!”

James tried not to laugh, but ended up hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Marching back over again, Steve said, “Everything’s a joke to you now, Buck?”

“Tol'ko smeshnye veshhi.” _Only funny things._ James folded his arms, looking defiantly at Steve.

For a moment, Steve looked like he swallowed a bee and Tony was afraid of what nonsense was going to spill out of Rogers _this_ time. Instead, Steve just looked between them, studying them a moment. Then his face relaxed and a little thoughtful, he said, “I hope you guys will be very happy together.” Then turning to Rhodey, said, “You’re on your own Colonel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Delphyn, the best beta ever and DemonicReader for correcting the mistakes in my Russian. (I think I got the kind/cute adjectives right... I hope!) :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all like this!! :D Let me know!!! :D Love you all!


	13. M Is for Mediation and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey's not the only one with a chip on his shoulder at the moment.... Also, our boys from Brooklyn talk things over all-American style... with a side of baseball.

James watched Steve turn and walk away. He looked at Tony, “Ty hochesh', chtoby ja ostalsja?” _Do you want me to stay?_

Tony shook his head, “I got this, Robocop. You gonna talk with Steve?”

The super-soldier stared after Rogers for a moment, considering, then nodded.

“Come down to the lab later. I’ll introduce you to Bruce and Selvig. Don’t know if Jane came along this time or not. Kinda high-strung, but brilliant. If you ever need an expert on Einstein-Rosen Bridges, she’s your astrophysicist. Selvig too… but sometimes he’s inexplicably naked.” Tony shrugged. “So… Right. See you later.”

Barnes started to follow Steve, but then turned back to press a quick peck to Tony’s temple. “Later,” jogging a few steps to catch up with Rogers.

Tony gave his full attention to Rhodey, who’d stood, lips pressed together, arms folded, in front of the elevator during this whole exchange. Tony asked, “Are you getting in or are we doing this here?” Rhodey was not the only one with a chip on his shoulder at the moment.

Rhodey stepped in and they went up to Tony’s flat. It was larger than some of the others, but not a lot. A two-bedroom, rather than one of the studio or one-bedrooms. After the door closed, Tony moved to the fridge, “Sparkling water? Coffee?”

Rhodes moved closer, “No – I don’t want anything. Stop deflecting.”

Tony turned, bottle of mineral water in hand, “Not deflecting… just gathering my thoughts.”

Starting to launch into his ‘goddammit Tony’ lecture, Rhodes only made it as far as opening his mouth to speak before Tony cut him off.

“Just to be clear…. How many people did you out me to? Pepper, Steve, Natasha? Anybody else you felt needed to know before we could have this chat? Somebody else you had to ask – ‘hey, did you know Tony went both ways?’” Before Rhodey could respond, Tony continued, “Hey, congrats. A secret James managed to keep for 85? 90 years? Gone. Did it even cross your mind that it wasn’t just another piece of intel to interpret? To debrief on?”

Rhodey stepped back, “I can hear that you’re angry Tony, but –”

Tony’s head snapped to focus on Rhodey, “Do you even hear yourself? You’re doing exactly what you criticized Rogers for – the not-an-apology thing. ‘Hey, I put your personal life on display for the rest of your coworkers and teammates, but it’s because I have your best interests at heart?’” Tony shook his head angrily and took a few steps away and a moment to breathe.

Trying again, Rhodey started, “I get where you’re coming from – ”

Tony spun on his heel, “Really? ‘Cause I don’t remember your love life being up for everyone to pick apart and analyze.”

“Goddammit Tony! Listen to me!”

“Listen to _you_? I kinda thought this was about me.”

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” Rhodey growled in frustration.

“Difficult? I was having coffee with my boyfriend while he did the _New York Times_ crossword puzzle. One of the _simplest_ afternoons I’ve had in a _very_ long time.”

“Did you just? _Boyfriend?_ No, no, **no** … hold it right there. This is the man that _killed your parents_ Tony. There’s nothing romantic or simple about that.”

Tony rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, annoyed. Taking a deep breath to try to dial back the defensiveness a notch (past experience told him it only provoked Rhodey more), he responded, “No, there’s not. Look. Maybe I just want to leave the past in the past.... My parents have been gone for over twenty-five years.” Tony sighed, “Maybe I’m just tired of carrying the weight of that grief and guilt around with me. I like him, Rhodey. A lot.”

Still totally unconvinced and trying a different tactic, Rhodey said, “Fine, Tones. Fine.” Rhodey’s tone indicated that nothing was fine. At all. “What’s he get out of it? What’s he want from you?”

Tony thought about it. It wasn’t as though he’d never wondered before, though not so much recently. His conversations earlier today with James helped clarify things a bit, though. “Pretty sure all he wants is my time,” Tony said, a little wonderingly. _And someone who cares about him. Loves him._ Did he _love_ James? Well… that wasn’t really something he wanted to get into with Rhodey right now, so he could put off that train of thought for later. Tony added, “And time spent with James is time well spent – whether we’re having coffee or… making out in front of a truck stop.” He had to make an effort not to smile too broadly thinking about that….

“Tony, you’re not taking this seriously!”

“Rhodey, I’ve _always_ been attracted to both men and women… just didn’t act on it very often – ‘cause why bother with _that_ 90s PR nightmare.” Tony’s jaw tensed, and he continued, “But I do know that if there’s a guy worth coming out for, it’s James Barnes – not that it’s my decision anymore. Thanks for that again, by the way. So, yeah – I’m taking this very seriously.”

Playing the concerned friend card, Rhodey tried again, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt…”

Forcing himself to sit down in an effort to be an _adult_ and deescalate the anger in the room, Tony sighed and said, “Platypus, if it goes down that way, I’m pretty sure it’d be the other way around…. You know the ringtone FRIDAY put on his phone for me is ‘Heartbreaker?’ I think it’s supposed to be a warning label…” Tony waved his hand, “That’s beside the point. James makes me happy. I’m not gonna give up what we’ve got just because you or Pepper or anybody else thinks I should.”

Rhodey sat on the arm of the couch. “You know I’m going to talk to him. About this… ‘relationship’ you two have.”

Tony folded his arms across his chest, “I can actually _hear_ the quotation marks in that statement.” Tony looked away for a moment, staring fiercely at a point in the distance, then made eye contact with Rhodey. “I know you’ll do it anyway, whether it’s all right with me or not, but if you hurt him Rhodey? I swear to God you’ll regret it.”

Rhodey opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the click of Pepper’s high heels entering the room. “Hi Jim. Hey Tony.” Pepper walked over, squeezed Rhodey’s shoulder, then sat on the arm of the chair next to Tony. She looked down toward Tony, “Did he leave anything out?”

Tony shook his head, “Nope,” popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

Pepper looked toward Rhodey, “Got ‘we care about you?’” Rhodey nodded. Both men still glared at each other. “What about… ‘It’s been a while since you’ve dated anybody seriously and we’re just concerned because it seems kind of sudden to us?’”

“We talked on the phone a few times while he was in Wakanda…. I sent him some stuff.”

Rhodey’s face lit up with that ‘I knew it!’ look.

Tony added, “A few coffee mugs and a couple of movies…. That’s all. _Really._ And since he came back, we’ve been having lunch and dinner a couple times a week.”

Pepper smiled at Tony, “So it’s not just some _thing_ out of the blue.” Statement, not a question.

“No,” Tony said, trying not to scowl at Rhodey.

“All right… well, I agree with Jim that I think he and I would both like to speak with James, but it’s safe to say we’re all on the Happy Tony side?” Pepper looked meaningfully at Rhodey, who nodded grudgingly, then at Tony who nodded to acknowledge. She clapped her hands together once. “Wonderful! I brought Chinese. Let’s eat.”

As they stood around the small kitchen island in his apartment, Tony thought maybe Pepper read that _Getting to Yes_ book on negotiation too many times. Find the common ground, diffuse tension, deal made. But… that’s why she was so great as Stark Industries’ CEO.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

James caught up to Steve, who looked surprised to be followed. Steve cleared his throat, “You’re not gonna… um…?” He gestured over his shoulder toward the elevator.

“Stick around for them to duke it out? Nah. I get all my lectures from you Stevie,” James grinned and elbowed his friend. He felt a little giddy, riding high on Tony’s kiss in the elevator.

Steve sighed, looking a little tired. In a quieter voice, without looking up, he asked, “Am I really that awful?”

“Nah… Ty mnogoe perezhil.” _You’ve been through a lot._ James’ eyes widened for a second, since he knew Steve didn’t like it when he spoke Russian. _Shit._ It just slipped out…. Talking to Steve, it was a constant mental effort to make sure he was using the right language. The extra effort often meant that James just stayed quiet around Steve since finding words was sometimes hard to begin with.

Smiling sheepishly, Steve tapped his ear. “Finally got one.” Shrugging, he said “Nat said I was being stubborn.”

“You? No way….” James’ face relaxed. For the first time… since before the Commandoes… things felt… _easy_ – not so complicated. It wouldn’t last… but maybe they could enjoy it while it did.

Steve elbowed him a little hesitantly. “C’mon… quit it.”

James studied Steve’s face and a thought occurred to him – he’d always hated it when Steve _felt_ small. His opinions? The amount of trouble the guy could get into? Both seemed to have grown in proportion to the man, but maybe the guy inside still felt _small_. “Hey Stevie?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna go play baseball?”

“What?” Steve sounded both a little lost and a little wary.

James shrugged. “Just feel like… doing something fun.... And since there’s a ball diamond –”

Steve physically turned toward him, “No there’s not…. What are you talking about?”

“It’s behind that little building on the perimeter.”

“Really?” Steve still sounded skeptical.

“Yeah, we can talk on the way over and then I can trounce you just like the old days.”

“We’ll talk, and you can tell me how the hell you…” Steve looked around and lowered his voice, “How you landed on Stark…” Raising his voice back up to regular volume, “But there’s no way in h– you’re gonna beat me this time.”

“No way in heck?” James teased.

“Shut up.”

After rummaging in the training room’s storage closet for a few minutes, they even managed to find a bucket of baseballs and handful of bats shoved way in the back and headed out to the diamond. Once clear of the main building and away from most of the other foot traffic, Steve looked at James. “Stark?”

James nodded a small half-nod, confirming. When Steve just raised his eyebrows inviting him to elaborate instead of pressing him for details, James wondered if Natasha had been giving Steve pointers or if he’d just been paying attention. “He… makes me laugh,” a smile hovered, unbidden.

The lines of concern on Steve’s forehead started to fade. “He… uh… treats you right? Doesn’t… um… pressure you… for anything?” Steve looked as uncomfortable as he sounded.

Trying not to sigh and look too dewy-eyed, James said, “Yeah, on dobr ko mne. We… just talk… My derzhimsja za ruki. Ya potseloval yego….” _He’s good to me. … We hold hands. I kissed him._ He could feel himself start to blush. “No pressure.”

“You – ” Steve lowered his voice again, almost hissing, “You _kissed_ him?” He looked scandalized.

“Yeah… it’s what guys who think other guys are cute do sometimes when they find one they like.” He really hoped Steve wasn’t going to make this weird.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah. Right… I mean… of course. Right.” Examining the bats, Steve sighed and said, “It’s just kind of hard – I’ve got this picture of you in my mind and that’s not who you are at all.” Steve sighed, “I guess you never really were…. I know it’s my problem… not yours….” Steve looked up again, “I was so jealous of you. Of all the attention those girls gave you. And was too blind to see you were fu– …um… spending so much time with my _neighbor_.”

“I _did_ like Charlie.” James raised an eyebrow, “I was worried when I came up to your place after Molly stabbed me.”

Sighing, Steve said, “And I just wrote her off as a psycho…. When I realized _**this afternoon**_ … what really happened, it made sense that you didn’t want me to call the cops.” He laughed, “I remember being so mad at you. ‘That’s what the cops are for Bucky!’” Steve said imitating himself, shaking his head.

James rolled one of the baseballs in his hands, “If it makes you feel any better, sometimes I catch myself wondering if you’ve taken your pills or if you’ve been trying to ration them out again.”

“You remember that?” Steve seemed surprised.

“There were a million of them! Course I remember!” James shrugged, “I think it’s a little easier remembering stuff this time… Because I don’t have to hide.”

Steve finally selected a bat, “And ‘cause you’ve got Tony?”

“Skazhem, u menya est' druz'ya….” _Let’s say, I’ve got friends…._ “And B.A.R.F. helps me process a lot… not just the trigger words.”

“Decent food.” Steve offered, then a glint in his eye, “…And Tony...”

“You’re gonna be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Me?” Steve raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence. Then he shook his head and his shoulders curled in a little, “Not all the time I hope...”

“Nah… we’re like… brothers. Never gonna get along all the time.” Rolling his shoulders to loosen up while walking out to the grassy bump that had been a pitcher’s mound at one time, James asked, “You gonna talk all night or are you ready to get on with this?”

“I dunno… gonna pitch with your right? Heard the left was a little rusty,” Steve said snickering to himself.

“That’s how it is? All right then. No mercy then, tovarishh.” _…comrade_. James said squaring his shoulders, determined not to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again (and again and again!) to my awesome beta Delphyn and Russian language proofer, DemonicReader (and their patience as I grapple with the Russian language). This fic wouldn't be nearly so great without you two! :)
> 
> Seems like things have been going pretty well lately for our little crew... might be getting close to time to shake things up? What do you think??? }:D


	14. N Is for Nonintervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James finally meets the bots, scares DUM-E unintentionally, and makes a mess. Then the disassembling begins and Tony admires his BF from near and far. ;D

James and Steve tried to creep back into the Compound living quarters undetected. There had been a… _scuffle_ … over whether or not it was cheating to jump the fence in order to catch a ball that would’ve otherwise been a homerun. Their goodwill game had lasted about half an hour. (Just over twenty minutes, really, but who was counting?)

No lingering ill will, but both soldiers strongly suspected no one else would appreciate the two of them duking it out over something so stupid. Still, for the moment, the evidence was plain for all to behold. Thus, the sneaking. The… _scuffle_ … had become more of a _brawl_ when Steve’s insults had gotten too personal.

Now Steve had an impressive shiner and a limp and James (who felt uncomfortably close to _Bucky_ ) had a split lip and possibly a cracked rib or two. Both would probably be gone by lunchtime tomorrow, but not by the time he finished showering and getting dressed again to wander down to the workshop/lab area. Steve’s black eye (which was purpling very nicely if James said so himself) and limp would probably be gone before he went to bed. The difference between Erskine’s super-soldier formula and Zola’s knock-off.

Steve could be quiet when he wanted to, but trying to be stealthy with him around was… well… it just wasn’t going to happen – at least not to James’ personal standards. Thankfully, they made it through the public area and into the residential quarters before Natasha found them.

She gave them a silent, disapproving once-over, then stepped in front of James. “Ty izbil moego parnja.” _You beat up my boyfriend._ Not a question.

He nodded. Glaring wordlessly in the face of criticism felt familiar. Comfortable in a way almost nothing else was since he woke from cryosleep five? six? months ago. He didn’t _like_ the feeling, but he knew what to expect and at least Natasha wouldn’t use the shock batons. _How long had it been since he’d even thought about those? Talk about intrusive thoughts…_

Natasha stepped out of his personal space, studying his face, paying particular attention to his swollen lip. “Did he deserve it?”

Steve squawked, “Hey!”

 _Mission report Soldier._ No… that’s not what this was… “On skazal, chto ya julnichal.” _He said I cheated._

“Did you?” Natasha asked, arms folded.

“Nyet,” he said, resisting the urge to rub his forehead with his knuckles. He could feel a headache beginning, the first faint aches detectable when he moved his eyes.

Steve started to protest, but Natasha turned her head, eyebrow raised, and the sound died in Rogers’ throat.

“On prichinil tebe bol' Yashenka?” _Did he hurt you…?_ Something in the muscles around her eyes and mouth had shifted. She was his Natka now, concerned and ready to defend him.

He wasn’t confused exactly…. He knew what was going on, where he was…. Today’s emotional rollercoaster was catching up to him, though. Where earlier he might’ve been able to tease Steve about being a sore loser or make some kind of joke…? Now he just _couldn’t_. A mission report, though, he could handle – he’d done that under much harsher conditions.

After too long a pause, he managed, “Nyet.”

Clearly unconvinced, Natka turned to Steve. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry Buck…. Shouldn’t have said what I did….” Steve glanced at Natasha, then back to him. “Are we okay?” Steve’s blue eyes filled with concern.

He nodded slowly, gathering his energy for words, “Just tired.”

“Are you sure? I… just… I’d feel terrible if –”

He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, careful to remember not to use the metal one. Steve always flinched a little when he forgot. “I’m fine.”

Natasha scrutinized his face closely. “Ty sobiraeshsya otdohnut'?” _Are you going to rest?_ She looked every inch the overprotective sister from his dream.

“Ya postarajus' rasslabit'sja...” _I’ll try to relax._ He held up his hand and Natasha touched her fingertips to his. He added, “Obeshchayu.” _I promise._

She nodded once and then herded Steve away with promises of ice packs and _special treatement_. Feeling a little more himself now that he was alone again, James hoped Natka meant first aid….

James made his way to his room, showered, and changed into more comfortable clothes. He remembered he’d said he would meet Tony in the lab after finishing talking with Steve, so after getting dressed, that’s where he headed.

Down the hall, left and down the stairs…. The workshop was a marvel. He’d never been inside, but had walked past on other occasions after arriving back from Wakanda. Multiple projects in various states of completion scattered on worktables, holographic screens with bits of plans and equations, lights blinking. Other tables bare and ready for discussions or demonstrations.

He’d never tried to go in before – maybe just to avoid hearing FRIDAY tell him he couldn’t. He felt like…? Who was the character who needed to be invited in? It had been a long day… a good (great) day, though. Tony would understand if all … _James_ wanted to do was hide out. _Probably._ But Tony had seemed so excited to introduce his friends….

From this vantage point in the hall, he could see Tony talking animatedly with two men and a woman. A second woman sat on a sofa playing video games. The old man – 60’s possibly early 70’s – unlikely to be a threat. Same for the very slender woman with the long fingers arguing with Tony and jabbing at one of the holoscreens. The woman playing video games had a pepper spray cannister on the key chain that dangled out of her jacket pocket. Unable to determine if she was armed to a greater extent or not. As she was clearly not a scientist, it was possible she was some kind of bodyguard or other protections and therefore couldn’t be written off as a non-threat.

The other man looked to be somewhere in the vicinity of Tony’s age. Whether more or less, couldn’t be determined by sight. Rumpled. Didn’t carry himself like a man concealing weapons. On the other hand, this man was the only one in the group who turned his head and _looked_. The look in the man’s eyes said he recognized a threat when he saw one, too.

Following the man’s line of sight, Tony turned, and the rest of his group looked up. Five pairs of eyes rested on Barnes. Stand your ground. Breathe. Force shoulders down to resemble a relaxed posture. Breathe. With all those eyes on him, he felt his muscles twitch, ready to flee or fight. Nothing to run away from. _Tony wouldn’t ask you to go somewhere that wasn’t safe…._

Tony smiled and waved, motioning for him to enter. Barnes forced his legs to move and got as far as the doorway. The door swooshed aside, ajar, waiting for him to enter. He just _couldn’t_. The woman sitting on the couch snickered and said something about vampires. _That was it… **Dracula**_ needed to be invited in.

Tony glared at her, walked to the door, and offered Barnes a hand. “C’mon inside Robocop. Nobody here’s gonna bite unless you say please first.”

He took the hand Tony offered and entered. Hoped his eyes didn’t look like dinner plates. Maybe – maybe his training had been good for something and his anxiety didn’t show…. _He shouldn’t have come_. Should have offered to meet Tony’s friends tomorrow. Should have run when he had the chance. _Shit._ Tony was talking to him and he hadn’t heard any of it….

“Chto?” _What?_ James tried to get his conversational bearings.

Tony frowned slightly, “You all right Soldier? Your… talk with Rogers go okay?”

“Izvini…. What?” _Sorry…_

Studying his face, Tony appeared concerned – not angry. Tony tried again, “Lookin’ a little rough around the edges, beautiful. Everything go okay with Steve?”

Forcing words to come out of his mouth, “Da, vse v porjadke.” _Yes, it’s all right._ Tony seemed to want him to provide more details, but James’ mind was drawing blank – both on words and what had happened. He felt… wrung out.

Tony held out his hand, waiting for _James_ to touch them. _He could do that._ One at a time, finger by finger, as though all five at once would be too overwhelming…. Should he be scared that the contact with Tony had such a grounding effect? He didn’t want to be _dependent_ on Tony.

Either way, he was able to focus a little more. Tuning in again to what Tony was saying, James caught worried, angry phrases and exclamations. “Gonna kill Rogers! What the hell?! _Shit._ Should’ve gone with you sweetheart.” Then, a wave of guilt washed across Tony’s face, “This because of earlier? Too much too fast? I’m so sorry James.”

It felt like a key turning in his mind. The words returned, “Ty slishkom silno bespokoishsya, moya zhelezochka.” _You worry too much my cute little piece of iron._

Tony’s eyes studied him, their warm brown filled with concern.

“I’m okay. Steve and I disagreed about baseball.”

“Baseball?” Tony seemed skeptical.

When had he threaded his fingers between Tony’s? “Yeah…. There… um… might’ve been a scuffle.” Before Tony could ask, “Gave him a black eye.”

“You punched Captain America and gave him a black eye.” Statement.

“Da.”

“Over baseball.”

“Da.”

Tony pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment, but didn’t let go of James’ hand. In fact, was rubbing his thumb over James’. For a moment, James thought Tony was going to continue, but then the engineer raised an eyebrow. “I get you this shirt?”

James looked down. Grey t-shirt with a sad-faced cartoon taco. Caption: _‘Every now and then I fall apart.’_ “Yeah, I think it was a welcome home present.”

“How can you date a guy with such seriously questionable taste?” The sparkle coming back to Tony’s eyes, the serious expression falling away.

“Cute goes a long way with me.”

Tony muttered, “You’re delusional.”

James felt a smile creep up, “Socially awkward, yes. Delusional? No.” He paused, “I did put that Metallica shirt at the bottom of the drawer, though.”

Sighing, Tony said, “Yeah… probably for the best, Sugar Pop. I don’t think the Compound’s ready for the Winter Soldier wearing a _‘Kill Em All’_ shirt.”

The rumpled man interrupted, “Tony? Did I miss something? You two…? Are _**dating**_?”

Turning back to the other people in the room, Tony said, “Yes Brucie Bear – you and the Other Guy ok with that?” More than a hint of challenge there.

 _Brucie Bear_ shrugged, “Whatever, Tony… consenting adults and all that…. Do Pepper and Rhodey…?”

“Already had that conversation, thanks.” Tony pulled James in front of him a bit like a human shield and made his introductions from the safety of James’ shadow. “James? This is Dr. Bruce Banner. Bruce? This is James Barnes.”

The rumpled man gave him a long look, then nodded, “Nice to meet you… Mr. Barnes?”

Banner did not seem inclined to shake hands, which was fine with James. “Just Barnes is fine too. FRIDAY calls me Sergeant.” He shrugged.

Banner pressed his lips together and half-nodded again, “Barnes.”

Tony introduced the willowy female scientist as Jane Foster, who volunteered the information that regardless of what he may have heard, she was no longer dating Thor. The next introduction was the older man, Erik Selvig, who said he’d signed a deal to wear pants in the lab and workshop spaces at all times. The woman playing video games, Darcy Lewis, promised to keep the four scientists alive… by feeding them, making sure they slept, and keeping track of their notes.

At that point, Lewis went back to her video games. Selvig, Banner, and Foster went back to the holoscreens they were arguing over. James looked back over his shoulder at Tony, “Gonna hide back there all night?”

“I might… got a great view here…. You know Betty at the Pancake Shack says you’ve got more thigh and leg than a bucket of fried chicken? She’s not wrong.” Tony grinned and winked. “I do have to get back to official Science Bro business, but I’ve got a couple other introductions to make first.”

Tony steered James to the opposite end of the workshop away from the human occupants. This end of the workshop held another couch and a lot of mechanical equipment. Equipment that was… rolling up to meet them.

“Hey DUM-E – finish sweeping up that mess you made?” Tony was trying to sound stern, but there was a fondness in his expression that touched James’ heart. “Guys? I’ve got somebody I’d like you to meet.” He gestured to James, “This is my boyfriend, James. James? These are my bots.” Tony had started to blush, “This is DUM-E… and the one over here is U.”

James looked between the robots who seemed to be looking at him expectantly, “Um… hi.” He waved, and the bots broke out into an excited chatter amongst themselves. James glanced nervously at Tony, “Something wrong?”

Tony shook his head, “Nah, they’re just excited because your arm works. Pretty sure they didn’t believe me about the other one not being dead.” Tony rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, “They… uh… they’ve got artificial intelligence, but they’ll never be as sophisticated as JARVIS or FRIDAY.” Clearing his throat, Tony said, “I’ll let you guys catch up… I’ve… y’know… gotta get back….” He pointed to the room’s other human occupants.

“Tony?”

Tony stopped and looked over his shoulder at James.

“I’m sorry I made you worry. Ya ne dumal.” _I didn’t think._

Tony’s expression softened, “Hey, you can give Rogers a black eye whenever you want.” Stepping closer, Tony brushed his fingers over a forgotten scrape on James’ cheek. Tony lowered his voice, “It’s him putting hands on my boyfriend that I’ve got a problem with.”

It was probably only his serum-enhanced senses that allowed James to feel the faint tremble in Tony’s touch and hated himself for being its cause. And _boyfriend_? He’d never been _that_ to anyone before. Somebody’s back alley blowjob? Yep. A bar-room hookup? Been that too. Someone else’s shameful secret? Also, yes. Boyfriend? _That’s a negative Ghost Rider._

Should he apologize again? Make promises not to do it again? Steve could be irritating as hell, so that would probably go under the white lie category anyway…. Promise to do whatever it took to come back to Tony? That was true… and being the Winter Soldier, _‘whatever’_ was a very, very broad spectrum, so maybe that was better left unsaid.

James rested his cheek on Tony’s hand a bit, lowering his voice, he said, “Don’t know how to be a boyfriend…. You’ll tell me if ya sdelayu chto-nibud' ne tak?” … _I do something wrong?_

Tony tipped his head, “Never had a boyfriend, so there’s no precedent.”

James frowned, “But you’ve had girlfriends.”

Pointing to himself, Tony said, “Terrible boyfriend. Girlfriends? Unreasonable, demanding. Always, ‘But Tony, we had a date! Tony – wear a shirt!’”

“Promise I’ll never – _ever_ – tell you to wear more clothes.”

“Not even a hat in winter?” Tony teased.

Flicking his tongue over his lips, James replied, shrugging, “If you’re cold, you’ll need somebody to warm you up.”

Tony shook his finger at him. “You are really good… very smooth, WarGames.” Looking back to where the other scientists were debating, he said, “Science calls, sweetheart…. You can stay as long as you want. Not sure when we’ll be done.”

James nodded, and Tony was off again. Seemed to be in a better mood, though. He wanted to talk to Tony. Tell him everything. Watching Tony leap into the verbal fray, James wasn’t sure he’d get the chance, but he’d like to try anyway. Later. Whenever that ended up being.

He glanced around his immediate surrroundings again. DUM-E beeped at him again and scrabbled its pincers on his metal arm. James wiggled his fingers and then grabbed in the direction of what he assumed was DUM-E’s face.

“Got your nose,” he said, wiggling the end of his metal thumb between his pointer and middle fingers.

The bot made a startled whirring noise and backed away, banging against a work table and knocking off a large flat piece of metal that landed with a clatter.

Holding up an empty hand to show that there really wasn’t anything there didn’t help – and may have made things worse since DUM-E then tried to hide behind a large model of a molecule assembled from thin metal rods and little balls. “C’mon… I didn’t really…”

Everything was fine until U tried to comfort DUM-E – or explain... it was hard to tell with beeps and whirs what was actually being communicated. The whole model tipped off its stand and it was like slow motion, thin rods raining down, the ball joints rolling away willy nilly.

Tony turned slowly when one of the balls rolled up and bumped against his foot. “Everything all right back there?”

The bots beeped reassuringly, as if to say, ‘nothing to see here boss!’

“Uh… yeah. We’re good.”

Tony turned back to Banner, Foster, and Selvig. James looked back at DUM-E, “You’re a robot. You don’t have a nose. I was just kidding.”

DUM-E definitely was acting the injured party here.

“Sorry… Ya ne hotel tebja pugat'.” _I didn’t mean to scare you._ “An’ don’t worry… I’m not very sophisticated either.” Mumbling to himself, “Obviously.” He picked up the pieces of the model and the sheet of metal.

Apparently, cleaning up the mess DUM-E made was enough for the bot to forgive him because soon the robot was scrabbling at his metal arm again. James let the bot take his hand where it proceeded to pull him toward his old arm, laying on another workbench at the back, half-covered with a dust cloth.

DUM-E beeped at both his new arm and the old one. U bobbed its… camera? head? as if they both had the same question.

“Um… yeah… it’s my old arm. It…” James poked at it and several holoscreens popped up above it. He flipped through the screens. Scans of the old arm, the designs for his current arm with Shuri’s and Tony’s notes scattered through… He flicked back the screens to the scans of the old arm, enlarging and studying them carefully. He’d never been allowed to see how it really worked. While he wasn’t any kind of engineer, he could read plans, circuitry diagrams and the like.

“Hey, FRI? What’s this grey spot over here?” tapping the screen to enlarge it again.

“Unknown, Sergeant.”

“Neizvestnoe…” _Unknown._ That was never good with HYDRA equipment. “Est' li kakie-libo zamechanija po jetomu povodu?” _Are there any notes about this?_

“I’m afraid not. Boss has been busy these last few weeks and considers this a side project.”

“Hmmm.” He turned the arm over and the on-screen scans altered and turned with the motion. “Mmm. Nice.” Examining the connections between the plates and other joins was much easier now that the arm wasn’t attached. “Ya ne ljublju… neizvestnoe.” _I don’t like… unknown._ “FRIDAY, can you see to record what I’m doing if I try to find that neopoznannyj ob"ekt.” … _unidentified object_. He looked up at where he thought one of her cameras was, “So nobody gets hurt.”

FRIDAY hummed with feigned agreement. “Not because it’s been almost a week since you’ve taken something apart.”

“Toaster doesn’t count because it ate my bagel,” James said with a hint of irritation.

“I was referring to the remote for the ceiling fan.”

“Oh. Forgot about that… it was small, you know?”

“And your personal best time from functional object to basic components. Just under five minutes and no breakages,” FRIDAY replied as though reading the stats from the back of a baseball card.

“You’re timing me?”

“One never knows when such information will become useful, Sergeant.”

“Fair enough.” James looked over to see DUM-E holding a fire extinguisher uncomfortably close to his face. “Watch it with that.”

DUM-E buzzed with something that sounded like it meant ‘affirmative!’

FRIDAY offered, “I think you’ll find everything you need in the red toolbox with the black stripe.”

James found the box she was referring to. “Anything else before I get started?”

“I do love watching you work, Sergeant.” If FRIDAY was human, he might think her voice almost purred with that statement. Could almost imagine FRIDAY watching, chin in her hands.

“Should I take off my shirt?”

“That’s not necessary. Maybe just roll up your sleeves a little?” FRIDAY suggested.

“Cheeky, that’s what you are…” but he obliged anyway. And got absorbed in disassembly. The scans and… _Wow_. FRIDAY was updating a design plan and schematics as he worked. After awhile he stopped noticing her updates – lost in the connections, wires, and possible traps within the arm.

Once, some sort of liquid dripped onto the workbench. “Chto yeto za shtuka?” _What’s that stuff?_

“Hydraulic fluid, Sergeant.”

He wiped it with a rag that he found draped over his knee and went back to work, not questioning how said rag got draped over his knee. Or how he ended up sitting on a stool – where had that come from? _You’re slipping, Barnes._

Later he noticed a flashing message on one of the holoscreens above the workbench. The message said, ‘Food’s here.’ Glaring at the message he asked, “What’s my time so far FRI?”

“Two hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-eight seconds. I’ll pause the clock while you eat.”

He grumbled, dissatisfied, scowling at the neat tableau before him, wires, chips, and other components resting in tidy piles, like with like.

Gently, FRIDAY suggested, “If you don’t mind my saying so, Sergeant, the ceiling fan remote was far less complicated than that thing of beauty before you.”

“Lest'?” _Flattery?_

“Hardly. Simply stating a fact.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

After a nearly an hour of silence after all the crashing around (really not that unusual when the bots were active), Tony glanced around to see whether or not James had left – or assuming he’d stayed, if he was awake. Instead, he saw James standing in front of one of the workbenches, concentrating intensely. Doing… _something_. Tony could see the muscles in his right arm twitch and tighten with small movements, while plates on the black and gold metal arm shifted slightly from time to time. Had James… rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt? _Yes. Yes, he had._

While his cohorts were distracted by a 3D diagram on one of the holoscreens, Tony asked, “FRI, what’s James up to back there?”

Speaking through his earpiece, FRIDAY replied, “I believe the Sergeant is disassembling his old arm, boss.”

“Really?” Tony was torn between horror and awe – a little too close to James operating on himself, though Tony was reasonably sure that was also a skillset the super-soldier possessed.

“He found an unknown section inside and is taking the arm apart in an effort to locate and disarm it.” FRIDAY replied matter-of-factly.

“Disarm?”

Bruce looked up, eyebrow raised, and Tony shook his head, waving his hands ‘nevermind.’ Lowering his voice, Tony repeated, “What do you mean by _‘disarm’_ FRI?”

“The Sergeant believes that anything HYDRA might attempt to conceal poses a danger to those studying the arm and that his training better suits him to determine its purpose and disarm it if necessary.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. Both things were _true_ … but that didn’t mean he had to _like_ it. James really was exceptional at stripping things to their basic parts. He had more experience than the rest of them combined with HYDRA… _but_ …. Maybe a quick peek to make sure James wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks…?

When Lewis interrupted the Science Bro discussion to take orders for dinner, Tony took the opportunity to investigate and walked over. “How’s it goin’ Robocop?”

No response. James’ eyebrows knit together in concentration. He appeared to be following a particular wire to its source, carefully removing pieces in its path.

Tony tried again, “Looks like you’re close to the hydraulic line, babe.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Hungry?” James was _always_ hungry. Tony didn’t know if it was the super-soldier serum, growing up during the Great Depression, or what, but the Soldier could put away the groceries.

“Mmmm.”

“You’re not listening, are you?” Tony asked - it was a rhetorical question.

Again, no response at all. James was gently teasing an inner plate out of its slot. _He’d be soooo good at that kids’ game, Operation…._

“I’m gonna bring you a stool so you can sit, okay?” On one hand, Tony didn’t like being ignored. On the other hand, the fact that James was able to relax enough to devote that kind of concentration to a project delighted him. More so because it was happening in one of _his_ spaces.

James added the inner plate to a line of similar plates arranged in order by size, largest to smallest. He frowned at the small piles of components and then started removing several tiny screws from the interior workings of the arm.

Bruce noticed Tony carrying the stool over and asked, “What’s he up to?”

“Taking apart the old HYDRA arm.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Bruce asked, “You sure that’s a good idea Tony?”

Tony set down the stool quietly and pushed it forward, so it just touched the back of James’ legs. James promptly hooked a foot around one of the stool’s legs and pulled it up, so he could sit down.

Turning to Bruce, Tony shrugged, “It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened in one of my workshops.”

Bruce scrunched up his face, unconvinced, mumbling, “Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean it’s a _good_ idea.”

Tony threw an arm over Bruce’s shoulders, “Isn’t it great? Watching a gorgeous guy work on something with that kind of focus?”

Bruce peeled himself out from under Tony’s arm. “I guess… he looks a little less menacing?” Banner sounded like he was guessing.

Sighing, Tony folded his arms and said, “Clearly you need to get your eyes checked. Tell Lewis I’ll be over with my order in a sec.”

Banner wandered away and Tony tried to remember where he put his rags. He’d cleaned up last week in anticipation of the meeting of the scientific minds and had put away some of the things people might not want to lean on. He would _not_ ask FRIDAY, because he could clearly recall her telling him he’d never remember if he put them… _where?_ Not in that drawer… Never find them… _Hmmm…._

Third try – success! Inside the little fridge Pepper had gotten for him to store smoothie ingredients in. Why he’d thought that would be a good storage place for workshop rags? The world may never know.

Tony brought the cleanest one over for James. “Hey, I brought you a rag in case the hydraulic line starts to leak.” Receiving no reply, he draped the rag over James’ knee. “You’re doing a fantastic job, WarGames. Just… uh… let me know if there’s anything you need.”

He stood another moment, watching James’ eyes trace the path of the wire he was chasing. Noticing the shift in the edge of James’ lips as they pursed while he thought. Tony had the thought, _‘I’m never gonna get tired of this….’_

Trying not to sigh wistfully, Tony made his way to where Darcy Lewis was putting together their food order.

Reading from her list, Darcy said, “Ok. I’ve got 6 orders of chicken satay, 3 of fresh spring rolls, one papaya salad with shrimp,” Jane Foster nodded and went back to work. Darcy continued, “Three orders of pad thai – two with chicken, one with shrimp; two orders of drunken noodles – one veggie, one with pork…” Selvig shuffled back to where Jane was working. Lewis took a deep breath and went on, “One red curry with bamboo shoots and tofu.” Banner smiled, gave Darcy an awkward thumbs up, and joined Selvig and Foster. “One red curry with pineapple and chicken for me. What can I get for you Stark? I assumed you’d want a chicken satay for you and your B.F. because – chicken satay? Peanut sauce? Not gonna lie, sometimes it’s better than sex.”

Tony frowned, “I think you’re doing it wrong then….” He shook the image out of his mind, “Um… let’s see… another drunken noodles, green curry – the one with eggplant? – with pork for me… Let’s see… I’m not sure if James has had Thai food before… maybe one curry fried rice with chicken… a red curry with pumpkin and chicken…, and…”

Darcy raised her eyebrows, “And? Maybe he can eat the leftovers if he’s hungry after all that… C’mon Stark. You told me you just ate with Pepper and Rhodes! He’ll end up eating most of yours anyway.”

“Yeah, ok, ok.” Tony paused, glanced back at James who was wiping the workbench in front of him with the rag. Tony couldn’t help smiling to himself.

Darcy followed his eyes. “You could do a lot worse, Stark. Grade A beefcake.” She winked and flashed the ‘ok’ sign, strolling off to place their enormous delivery order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like this. :D Thanks again to Delphyn, the best beta ever and DemonicReader, who's kind enough to correct my Russian (this one has more, so I'm expecting more mistakes - sigh...).
> 
> And thank you guys for all your comments! They really make my day! :D


	15. O Is for Occupations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner conversation, minor schemes, and movie night! Also, FRIDAY remains the best bro ever and is totally ready to facilitate James' shenanigans when she'd probably make other people's mischief more difficult than necessary.

Tony congratulated himself on the success of sending a flashing message to the holoscreen over the workbench where James was working to grab his attention away from disassembling the old arm. As Tony moved toward that end of the workshop, he could hear James give a murderous glare toward FRIDAY’s camera and grumble something to the AI that Tony couldn’t quite make out.

James wiped his hands on the rag and glanced to his right, where DUM-E had been waiting at the ready, fire extinguisher in claw-hand thing. Tony couldn’t see the expression on James’ face, but heard both DUM-E and U beep curiously.

Tony overheard James say, “I’m so sorry – we were talkin’ and then ya otvleksja,” _I got distracted._ James ran his fingers through his hair, “You guys asked me a question… about the arm?”

U bobbed its camera and DUM-E beeped shyly.

James looked at the workbench and his work-in-progress. “Yeah, that one is my old arm. It hurt a lot because of how it connected to my nervous system. At least that’s what Shuri said…. Ya ne dumayu, chto ty ee znaesh'.” _I don’t think you know her._

Continuing, James said, “This one’s not so bad…. Stealthier. Kinda classy, I guess.” He flexed the black and gold fingers, then wiggled them at the bots. “The other one was shinier though….” He shrugged.

DUM-E muttered dubiously to U who sounded like they beeped in agreement. By this time, Tony was standing next to their little triad and able to see James’ facial expression as he listened to the bots and tried to figure out what they were saying. DUM-E whirred emphatically and grabbed James’ wrist to drag him away.

Comprehension flashed across James’ face, “Nah, I don’t want the old one back. You’re right – it’s no good if it hurts.”

Both bots chirped with delighted relief and plucked at James’ clothes.

Tony grinned, “They’re trying to hug you.”

James smiled shyly at the bots and patted them, “Spasibo, malen'kie druz'ja.” _Thank you, little friends._ Then his face grew serious again, “Guys, stay away from the old arm unless FRIDAY tells you otherwise – okay?”

Raising his eyebrows, James looked between the bots until they whirred again, _rather sullenly_ , Tony thought. James nodded, “Okay. Good.” Glancing back toward Tony, he asked, “The rag and the stool were you?”

“Yeah, you seemed kinda in the zone, I just picked a few different things for you from the Thai place Darcy likes,” Tony replied.

“Izvini, I… sometimes I get sucked in.” _Sorry…_

“Don’t worry about it – happens to me all the time. Darcy brought all the food to the common area upstairs. Let’s go.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The others had already started eating by the time James and Tony joined them. Open cartons, plates, silverware, and chopsticks for those who wanted them littered the large dining table in the common area.

Lewis tried to keep the conversation to ‘not work’ topics, but James wasn’t going to help her out with that because a) he was really hungry, because a couple of brownies somewhere between four and six hours ago did not constitute lunch; and b) because she made one of the curries extra spicy as a joke. He pretended not to notice and ate it anyway, but he wasn’t going to assist with polite table conversation.

No one else expected him to contribute either, which on the one hand was kind of nice – low pressure. On the other hand, it was kind of annoying that they were having this whole conversation and didn’t expect him to pay any attention or participate.

Instead, James listened to the scientists discussing their headway in Einstein-Rosen bridge wormhole astrophysics, with Foster and Selvig mentioning other studies that had been conducted recently that backed up their research and observations during Thor’s arrivals and departures.

During a moment when the scientists paused for air or food, James asked, “So they’re like a portable hole. Right? But big enough to travel through.” Then tipping his head to the side, he mused, “Wonder if that’s how some of Loki’s magic works…? Like really small holes that are finite on the other end – you just can’t see the other side, so it looks like he’s pullin’ stuff outta nowhere.”

Five pairs of eyes rested on him.

“What?” They still stared, some mid-chew. “I mess that up? Sounded like what you guys were sayin’.” James’ eyes flickered from face to face and then looked back down at his fried rice, deciding to mind his own business. Eat, finish up in the workshop with the arm, and then… try to sleep – maybe?

Darcy Lewis, sitting at the end of the table to his left, leaned over and said, “I think you gave them something new to think about… I don’t think anyone they know has ever broken down their space-timey wimey stuff into cartoon references before.”

Thinking about it a little more, James added – mostly to Darcy, “It’d be handy to have a portable hole generator. Save a lot of money on property damage, you know?”

Darcy coughed on her chicken satay, but managed to swallow, “And thus Aperture Laboratories was born in real life….” Seeing his confusion, she added, “There’s a video game that has a gun that creates portals – within a short range – built by Aperture Laboratories.”

Aperture… hole. Made sense. Then his imagination started taking over, “That’d be _awesome_ ….” He glanced at Tony and the other scientists hopefully.

Tony shook his head.

James sighed and jabbed at his fried rice. Darcy snickered, and James glared at her.

She said, “You’re pouting because your boyfriend won’t just hand you a portal gun – that if it existed would be an untested prototype.”

He shrugged and could feel Tony’s eyes on him. “I’m not _pouting_. New… military tech is _interesting_ …. That’s all.”

Tony nudged him, “Yeah? C’mon super-soldier, tell us another.”

“Some college kids at the University of Texas in Austin made a nerve gas detector with Legos and a cell phone. Software’s on GitHub.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “Huh.” It was hard to tell if Tony was impressed or didn’t believe him. It was true, though. He’d been able to click through one of the links in the New York Times Online to find the story in _ACS Central Science._

James looked at Tony from underneath his eyelashes, “I’d get in trouble calling it ‘professional'nyj interes.’” _Professional interest._

“You’d have to demonstrate a lot of responsibility before Coulson or Hill would let me give you something like that WarGames.”

“That mean you’ve got one?” Interest piqued again.

Darcy kicked James’ shoe lightly, “Tony’s just teasing you, JB.”

Looking up, he saw the other scientists still looking at him, “What? I like guns – they make _sense_. They’ve got one job.”

Jane Foster frowned, “Killing people.”

James glared back at her, “No… makin’ holes. Chto-to, chto nas ob'edinyaet.” _Something we have in common._

The lingering silence became awkward quickly. James gathered up a couple of food cartons and got up. “Mne yest' chem zanyat'sya.” _I’ve got something to do._ “See you later.”

He walked away, balancing the food containers in one hand. He could hear the others behind him talking, but his ability to deal with other people was draining away again. James knew he hadn’t explained himself well… he liked _precision_. Parts fitting together precisely to perform a specific task or set of tasks – and understanding how the pieces worked together. It was soothing. _Comforting._ Familiar.

Deciding that the scientists would probably be going back to the lab to continue their work, James decided to venture out where he was less likely to be disturbed – the old shed next to the ball diamond. The damp wood siding and padlock had not kept the Winter Soldier from finding out what was inside – and then replacing the broken lock with his own lock that he liberated from Steve’s gym locker.

Inside the shed might be what his ma would’ve called a bunch of rusty junk. And at this point, she wouldn’t be wrong. However…, James just hadn’t had the chance to investigate fully yet. James wove his way through the forgotten tarps and rusting metal, eating the rest of his Thai food as he surveyed his surroundings more closely.

He called FRIDAY on his phone as he didn’t think the damp shed was connected to Tony’s network.

“Hello Sergeant.”

“Hi… wondered if you could do a favor for me.”

“Is it legal?”

James stopped for a moment, “Course it’s legal!”

“All right then.” _Did she sound a little disappointed?_

“Mne nuzhen fonarik.” _I need a flashlight._

“Do you prefer a flashlight, or would you prefer a generator and shop lighting?” FRIDAY inquired politely.

“You’re a doll and I love you.”

“Boss will be devastated.” She didn’t sound particularly sorry. “Generator and some portable shop lights. Anything else right now?”

James put her on speaker and used the light on his phone to look around, mumbling to himself, “Tool chest over there…. Maybe a radio?”

“What about a refrigerator?” FRIDAY suggested.

“Da, yeto horoshaya ideya. Oh – and a dumpster too. Not all this is gonna be salvageable.” _Yeah, that’s a good idea._

“I’ll need to check with facilities about the dumpster, but everything else should be available onsite already, Sergeant.” FRIDAY made a sound something like a throat clearing. “You should know that the Boss and his friends are watching a movie in the common area. It may be of interest – if you’re feeling up to it.”

He felt better again, so maybe he’d just stop in to apologize. _Had he always been this moody?_ But walking off a bad mood was one of the techniques his therapist was trying very patiently, bless her, to teach him. Also, not hiding from a problem until it festered into something worse.

Walking back to the main Compound campus, James tried to imagine how his conversation might go. They were Tony’s friends. Not likely to bitch him out. The rest of the walk back, he spent daydreaming about what he might find in the shed – which he’d already started to think of as his garage.

 _Would they say no if he asked?_ He’d asked Hill, the Compound’s director if he could maintain the weapons in the armory and she’d said no to that. Understandable – even though most of the ammunition was stored in a separate room from the weaponry. He’d only been back from Wakanda for about a month. Only away from HYDRA for six months give or take a few days?

James sighed and rolled his shoulders, entering the living quarters and making his way to the common area. Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts had joined Tony and his Science Bros in watching a movie. FRIDAY informed him that Darcy had chosen the movie – one apparently at least half of them had seen already.

FRIDAY had given him an idea of what to expect, but walking into a large living room to the screen full of two dudes hanging from a dark ceiling in what looked like a subway tunnel left him feeling a bit disoriented. _Were they…?_ They _were_ mounting explosives. From there, a few scenes of people setting up cars, traffic cones.

James boosted himself onto the kitchen island to watch from there. Armored cars? Gold? And a guy hacking the traffic signals. A _heist_. Wouldn’t be so easy now, with the additional security cameras and other surveillance equipment…. But still _possible._

Were they driving _Mini Coopers_? Yes, they were. Precision explosives to drop the armored car into the subway tunnels. _Very_ nice. Oh. The blonde cracked safes. Well _that_ made her more interesting. The slide to move the bricks also well planned.

Playing devil’s advocate, James thought the bad guys should have stationed snipers at the likely exits and taken out the cars that way. There wouldn’t have been the great car chase if they’d done that though. Not that James wanted the bad guy to keep his gold. Helicopter pilot had talent too.

The ending left a something to be desired. Nobody used to that kind of adrenaline rush would be able to just abandon it – just automatically be able to settle down somewhere. Well, whatever – it was just a movie.

Instead of the lights coming up, though, another movie came on. He heard Foster yawn and Selvig was plainly snoring. _The Princess Bride._ Hmmm. James was less than convinced. 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony looked over his shoulder, hearing a quiet huff when Buttercup asked Wesley to retrieve the pitcher. He wondered how long James had been watching with them.

“Feeling better?”

James shrugged. “Popcorn?”

Tony nodded and rolled his eyes when Darcy shushed them.

A few minutes later, James joined them, bringing a large bowl of microwave popcorn – only slightly scorched. Before Tony could ask somebody to move over to make room for James, the soldier sat at Tony’s feet, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Comfy?”

James’ only response was an affirmative half-hum, half-grunt, but he settled back against the couch in the space between Tony’s knees. _C’mon Stark._ Now is not the time for thinking about….

James rested his head against Tony’s thigh, just above the knee. _Thank god it was dark._ Having James between his legs at all – even in this relatively chaste setting – made Tony’s pulse race. Just… _hnnggggg._

Darcy pulled the popcorn into her lap and Tony started combing his fingers through James’ hair. Just a few moments later, James’ head lolled back into Tony’s lap, eyes closed, his shoulders more relaxed than Tony’d ever seen them.

“Feel good?” Tony murmured.

“Hm?”

Tony experimented with gently grazing his fingernails over James’ scalp.

That solicited a groan loud enough for Darcy to shush them again. Tony was patently ignoring Pepper and Rhodey – he didn’t need their reactions or commentary right now.

Still, maybe Tony should stop. His fingers stilled for a moment and James cracked an eye open. “‘S good… ne perestavay eto delat'.” _Don’t stop doing that._

Tony started running his fingers through James’ hair again, alternating that with making little circles on James’ scalp with his fingernails. The super-soldier settled back again, closing his eyes again.

Somewhere around the time Wesley was fighting the Rodents of Unusual Size, James mumbled, “In my dream Natka did something like this, but you do it better.”

James exhaled again and the expression on his face…. Tony was fairly sure that James wasn’t _trying_ to be sexy, but gods – _if he looked like that_ … made breathy sounds like that for a basic scalp massage…? Tony was going to spontaneously combust if they ever took it farther than these kinds of touches.

Tony tried hard not to assume they’d take their physical relationship farther. Who knew what kind of off-the-books things HYDRA had done to the Soldier? To take his mind off the fact that if James’s head was just pointing the other way… _Right._ “Uh… what dream, beautiful?”

Voice almost a low purr, James tried to find words. “Y’ know… had dreams while I was in cryo.”

Tony knew it might be frustrating for James, but the small twitch of those lips as while the Soldier searched for words was adorable. Those lips were so… _expressive_ …. Christ Stark! _Get a fucking grip!_ Stop thinking about James’ lips!

Clearing his throat, Tony said, “What kind of dreams?”

Darcy turned to glare at them and Tony lowered his voice before continuing, “You said Nat was in your dream?”

“Da. She was… like my sister. But I knew we weren’t really related. She saved me from wherever I’d been.”

So, this was what a drowsy super-soldier sounded like up close. “Anything else?”

“Remember all of it…” James turned halfway and leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch above Tony’s thigh. “Lived with her in a rowhouse somewhere. She was a student. An’ you and Steve were her roommates.”

Brushing the hair away from James’ eyes, Tony asked quietly, “What did you do?”

“Short order cook. Seemed so real sometimes….” A slight frown flickered across James’ face before relaxing away again.

“You spent your time in cryo dreaming about me?”

“M-hm. Made you pancakes late at night… Ya pytalsya flirtovat' s toboy.” _I was trying to flirt with you._ “Didn’t speak much English though… wasn’t easy.” James shrugged, kissed Tony’s knee and turned back toward the movie again, but rested his head back in Tony’s lap.

Tony’s fingers found their way back into James’ hair and his boyfriend’s eyes fluttered closed again. “So, you like me because you dreamt about me?”

“No… we just…” James sighed, sounding very satisfied, “Ate pancakes together. Vot i vse.” _That’s all._ “Ya dumal, ty milyi.” _I thought you were cute._

Tony leaned forward to whisper, “I’m _not_ cute.” _That was a mistake_ – at least as far as family-friendly movie time went. The whiff of almonds and bay rum sent Tony’s nerves tingling again, the coil of warmth in his belly rekindled, and he had to struggle not to squirm.

“Ty ne vyigraete jetot spor, moya zhelezochka.” _You will not win this argument, my cute little piece of iron._

Leaned in just a little closer, Tony whispered, “We’ll see about that Snezhinka.” _Snowflake._

The room was darkened for the movie, but Tony could swear he’d just made the Winter Soldier blush to the roots of his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the technology James tells Tony about really is a thing:  
>  **Photography Coupled with Self-Propagating Chemical Cascades: Differentiation and Quantitation of G- and V-Nerve Agent Mimics via Chromaticity**  
>  Xiaolong Sun, Alexander A. Boulgakov, Leilani N. Smith, Pedro Metola, Edward M. Marcotte, and Eric V. Anslyn  
>  _ACS Central Science_ 2018 _4_ (7), 854-861  
>  DOI: 10.1021/acscentsci.8b00193
> 
> I try hard to have details be real things. I like our guys to be grounded in reality. Such as it is. Because it's a construct we all just sort of generally agree exists. Or something. (I may have stayed up past my bedtime....) ;D If you haven't heard of it, the video game Darcy is talking about is Portal (and its sequel Portal 2). The movie James walks into is the remake of _The Italian Job_ with Mark Wahlberg  & Charlize Theron.
> 
> Thank you again to Delphyn, my patient and enthusiastic beta for your comments and confidence in me! Thanks also to DemonicReader (I just might get that shirt for myself for my birthday!!) who is so kind and helpful with fixing up Bucky's Russian. :D 
> 
> Thank you all sooo much for reading! I'm so excited that people are reading this and enjoying it!! :D Feel free to comment!


	16. P Is for Pancakes with Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Tony spend a long time saying good night. More nightmares, but James isn't the only one. Pepper and Bucky bond over pancakes and pie, discovering some things they have in common other than Tony Stark.
> 
> And they steal Captain America's motorcycle to do it.
> 
> Really, Steve... You should've parked it in the garage.
> 
> Or at least not left the keys in the ignition. C'mon... Did the crying baby alarm not teach you anything??
> 
> (poor Steve, he'd forgotten his childhood bestie was a menace)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to give my continuing thanks to my awesome beta Delphyn and DemonicReader who assists so enthusiastically with fixing my Russian mistranslations! :)
> 
> I'm putting the notes upfront because this chapter has some of James' nightmares/flashbacks of his childhood/teen years with some abuse and threats. Some implied period homophobia, but no slurs. If these trigger for you, skip the section that starts 'The dream started out fine..' and start again with 'He woke not quite sure of when – or where he was.' You'll also want to skip the from the paragraph that starts 'There had been onions on his burger, too.' to “Hands where we can see ‘em!” - this doesn't have it's own section, but I wanted to let you know, just in case. :)
> 
> Also, THANK YOU for all your comments and encouragement! I'm working hard! Life is just a little hard this week (nothing writing a little WinterIron doesn't help soothe, tho!). *mwah!*
> 
> Our friend Sun Tzu returns with several quotations when James is disoriented. He could do a lot worse as far as existential guidance goes, imo. ;)

After _The Princess Bride_ ended, Selvig, Foster, and Lewis went back to their quarters to get some rest. Banner said he was going back to Tony’s lab, and Tony nudged James with his knees until James grudgingly opened his eyes again.

“Hey Robocop, how ‘bout you get some sleep?”

James grumbled, “‘M sleepin’ now. Shhhh.”

“I meant in a bed super soldier.”

Tony received no other acknowledgement from James other than a little bit of shifting around and closing his eyes again.

Trying again, Tony said, “You’re gonna get a crink in your neck. And your butt’s gonna go numb.”

“Tryin’ to get rid of me?” James did not open his eyes – just yawned and nestled his cheek back into the space above Tony’s knee.

“No…. Just trying to get you to sleep somewhere where people sleep.”

“‘M a person an’ I’m sleepin’ _here_.”

“Yeah, but I’m old – I’ll get blood clots or something if I sit here all night.” Tony was grasping at straws – not that he minded the contact or wanted it to end, but as far as he knew, James might be the only person in the Compound who slept less than he did and deserved to get some _quality_ sleep.

James turned his head to scowl at Tony. “All right, but if I’m goin’ you have to too.”

“Have to what?”

“Sleep, genius.” James dragged himself up and stood. “Ey FRI?”

FRIDAY’s warm Irish lilt filled the space, “Yes Sergeant?”

“Wake me up if Tony’s not sleepin’ in the next forty-five minutes?” James sounded very… _irritable_.

Of course, Sergeant. Happy to oblige.”

Tony interrupted, “Hey – wait! Override!”

“I’m sorry Boss, but my programming mandates that I ensure your well-being as much as possible. The Sergeant’s request fits with my core objectives, so I’m afraid I have to deny your override, Boss.” She didn’t sound sorry at all.

For the first time since James woke up, he smiled sleepily, “You’re the best.”

“Are you two conspiring against me?”

“With your best interests at heart, Boss… yes,” FRIDAY responded unapologetically.

Tony grumbled, “I’ve got a lot of work to do…,” but he knew it was a losing battle.

James held out his hand to help Tony up, “Must be tired, ty vygljadish' razdrazhennym.” _You look grouchy._ Glancing back toward one of the ceiling-mounted cameras, James reminded FRIDAY, “Forty-five minutes.”

“Agreed Sergeant. Sleep well, both of you.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony had grumbled the whole way to his flat, but James walked him to his door anyway. At the door, Tony asked him, “Are you really going to sleep?”

James nodded, “Ya popytayus'. Was a good day today, but kind of a lot, you know?” _I’m going to try_. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

Tony nodded, “Yeah. I get that. I hate arguing with Rhodey.” He looked up and _god_ … those brown eyes were deep enough to drown in.

They stood in front of Tony’s door, quiet for a moment. Tony rested his hand on the knob but made no move to open the door. James leaned against the other side of the doorframe. On one hand, he was tired and thought he might be able to fall back asleep if he went back to his room now. On the other hand, he had so many things he wanted to talk to Tony about: the arm, how much he liked DUM-E and U, how Tony made him _hope._

Since Tony looked as exhausted as James felt, he decided all that could wait, reached out and cupped Tony’s cheek, “Best day of my life,” and leaned forward to give Tony a good night kiss.

This time, Tony’s lips were warm and soft, but not too soft. James carefully tasted Tony’s lips and found that now he tasted a little bit like salt and popcorn. He could feel Tony’s hands – one at his waist, the other in his hair. James pressed smaller kisses across Tony’s mouth, finally tugging Tony’s lower lip as he pulled away.

Opening his eyes, James caught a glimpse of Tony’s eyelashes as they fluttered open. He brushed his thumb over Tony’s lips, then gave him one more kiss, “G’night.”

“Night,” Tony sounded ever so slightly breathy. Then shifting to loop both arms around James’ neck, Tony tilted up his head to kiss him again.

James wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when he broke away, Tony looked kiss-drunk, cheeks flushed and lips pink and parted slightly. He could probably stand here all night kissing, but despite the gleam in Tony’s eyes, the engineer looked just as tired as he had before.

Tony took a deep breath that was flatteringly ragged, “Am I gonna see you tomorrow?”

This was a fair question since typically they didn’t usually get together between their Monday lunches, and Tuesday and Saturday late-night dinners. James shrugged, “If you wanna, I guess.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I expected a little more enthusiasm from the guy who’s been making out with me for the last…” Tony consulted his watch, “Twenty minutes. _Wow_. Twenty minutes.” Tony touched his fingertips to his lips wonderingly.

“Just figured between therapy and science there might not be much time.” James licked his lips, “Ty budesh' skuchat' po mne?” _Will you miss me?_

Watching Tony, James could see the snarky retort flicker and fade across Tony’s face before it was spoken, replaced with a soft, “Yeah.”

“Togda uvidimsya zavtra.” _Then I’ll see you tomorrow._

Tony looked up, eyebrow raised, skeptical. “Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

Sounding more confident than the shy expression on his face relayed, Tony said, “You’re fantastic, WarGames…. Think I’m gonna keep you.”

“Do tekh por, poka ty khochesh, Antosha.” _As long as you want_... James let his fingertips trace the line of Tony’s jaw. “Gotta sleep now, though.” He inhaled the scent of safety that surrounded Tony. _When did that happen?_ When did that blend of coffee, citrus, and spice with undernotes of metal and motor oil start to mean safe?

Tony nodded – reluctantly agreeing – and disentangling himself, he said, “All right, all right.” Opening his door a crack, he looked back up at James, voice soft again, uncertain, “Promise?”

“Obeshchayu.” _I promise._

Taking a deep breath, Tony pushed the door open and walked in, “Night… again.”

“Spokoynoy nochi.” _Sleep well_. James walked toward the stairs, which he preferred over the elevator, since if he didn’t go now, he might not any time soon. 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The dream started out fine. Better than fine, in fact. He and Tony were making out on the couch and Tony sat up astride him. Sliding his hands under James’ shirt, he said, “Bet I could ride you all night.”

He’d heard his own voice chuckle, “Promises, promises….”

Tony pulled his own shirt off over his head and pushed James’ up to start kissing his chest. Neither of them heard the key turn in the lock, but they both jumped when they heard the voice shouting, “What the hell is this?”

Opening his eyes and looking around more carefully, James felt disoriented. Where the hell were they? This wasn’t the Avengers Compound…. This was… _home_? The hardwood floor, threadbare oriental rug, the tiny sofa… and…. _Oh shit._

The stocky, powerfully built dockworker that was George Barnes, crossed the room in seconds and yanked Tony to his feet, shoving him toward the door, the odd mixture of guttural New York lower class accent mixed with Irish brogue shouting, “If I ever see you again, I’ll slice you from gut to gills…”

James stumbled to his feet to protest, the rest of the derogatory tirade drowned out by a rush of white noise in his head. Though nearly a foot taller than his father, the shock of seeing him and the horror of being discovered like that slowed James’ reflexes and the next thing he knew, he was picking himself off the floor, having been dropped by a vicious haymaker that rattled his teeth.

George Barnes was not by nature a violent man, Bucky’s mother had explained to him before. You just had to know how to handle him – and when to avoid him. They’d had that conversation after Bucky had taken apart his grandfather’s pocket watch and not been able to put it back together before its absence had been noticed.

An open-handed blow knocked him down again and with his eyes closed, he couldn’t remember whose hand it was. At the back of his mind he heard another voice, sneering, explaining to someone else in the room, “That’s how you have to handle The Asset. It doesn’t respond to anything else.”

He heard his voice stammer out, “What?”

His father’s voice hissed again, low and threatening, “I said, _‘do you understand me boy?’_ ”

He nodded and felt the front of his shirt being pulled up.

“Look at me when I’m talkin’ t’ you. Do. You. Understand,” his father giving him a shake for emphasis on each word.

He could feel his jaw starting to swell, the ache blossoming through his head. Heard a voice that sounded like his own mumbling, “Yes, sir.”

Heard his father storm out again, slamming the door behind him and sank back to the floor, drawing his knees close to his chest, arms over his head, trying not to make any noise as tears stung his eyes. The walls were thin. Wasn’t anyone else’s business. God. What would his mother say if she found out? _Oh._ There was an open cut on his cheek.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

He woke not quite sure of when – or where he was. Just aware of the worst headache he’d had in a while. Opened his eyes and rolled out of bed. Able to get the medicine cabinet open, but couldn’t get the childproof lid off. _Not actually bleeding – good._ Natasha’s room was on the other side of the common area from his, but on the same level. She’d open the bottle for him, for all the good they’d do.

The bottle of whatever – the letters swam in front of his eyes – in one hand, the heel of his other hand rubbing the side of his head firmly, he stumbled into the kitchen. The common area kitchen was empty, and he stopped to rest, sitting on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Rested his cheek against the cool granite countertop and tried to breathe.

What did a dream like that mean? Was it something that had happened? Something that he’d been afraid would happen? _‘Prohibit the taking of omens, and do away with superstitious doubts. Then, until death itself comes, no calamity need be feared.’_ Easy for you to say, pal.

He tried to relax his jaw and neck – clenched teeth and neck muscles were probably what had given him the headache. He took several deep breathes then looked at his surroundings. This really was the Avengers Compound. _Okay_. He sat up, trying to keep his body relaxed and breathing deep and regular.

That he was able to move around freely in the Compound meant that he was probably James Barnes. That felt right. He looked down at his chest at the sad taco on his shirt. ‘Every now and then I fall apart.’ _Ain’t that the truth._

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Damn._ Normal people did not wake up from a bad dream and need to confirm their fucking identity with visual clues around them. What the hell was he trying to do here? Faking his way back into society…. Just who was he fooling? (Everybody.) Had he been pretending to be okay? (Maybe. Unclear.)

At least the sharp pain in his head was receding to a mere dull ache behind his eyes and temples. He slid off the stool to make some tea because that was a thing people did when they were upset. He stood in front of the stove staring at the tea kettle wondering if he liked tea or not.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, breathing out slowly as the water heated. He knew after such a great day that the night and following day would be bad. He’d thought _BARF_ would be the brutal part.

The kettle whistled, and James heard a sniffle from the sofa. He hadn’t turned the light on and had been so out of it he hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room. James managed to suppress his first instinct to tackle and disable the potential threat. Sniffling usually meant a reduced threat level anyway.

“Ey, ‘m makin’ tea. It’s here if you want some.” He didn’t turn around as he poured the hot water over the tea bags, breathing in the soft, sweet aroma as the chamomile steeped. He listened though and heard the soft footfalls of someone crossing the room and elbows resting on the counter.

Turning to set down the cup, he was surprised to see Pepper Potts standing there, eyes fixed on the countertop. Her cheeks splotched with red patches, eyes puffy from crying. James passed her a cup gently. He’d only interacted with Pepper a couple of times and she was probably the most in-control, well-adjusted person he’d ever met.

Waiting for his tea to cool off enough to drink, he asked her, “Bad night?”

Pepper nodded without looking up.

He leaned on the counter across from her. “Is it a stabbing kind of problem?”

She shook her head and smiled wanly. Flicking her eyes, up, she said, “I’m afraid I’m not very good company right now.”

“Me either.” James sipped his tea. The sweetness of the chamomile tasted cloying. _Why did people drink this stuff again?_

After taking a few quiet sips, Pepper straightened up. James could see her features falling into the ‘Pepper Potts, efficient CEO’ mask. “Thank you so much – ”

“Hey, don’t. Please?”

Her facial expression faltered.

James sighed, “Don’t do that for me, ok? I’m not a fuckin’ egg that’s gonna break if everyone around me isn’t perfect.” Another sip of tea and he mumbled, “Just makes me feel more broken.”

She stared at him, her face blank for the moment and he added, “I dunno. I guess it feels like if even _you_ have a shitty night sometimes and you’re,” he fished for the right word, “Udivitel'naya,” shaking his head. “Amazing.” _That was it._ “And you’re amazing, then maybe I’m not so fucked.”

Pepper was back to looking at the countertop, avoiding eye contact.

He shrugged and muttering, “So don’t…” James swallowed the rest of the tea in a couple of large gulps, and waved his hand, “Mne po fig chto ty delaesh.” _I don’t care what you do._

She curled her fingers around the cup, staring into the shadows inside the cup, “You’re not trying to cheer me up?”

“Who ya think you’re talkin’ to?”

A small smile curved at the corners of her mouth, “Well, what you said about…?”

“Stabbing?” James straightened his shoulders, “If Pepper Potts has a problem that can be solved with stabbing – _discreet_ stabbing – I would be glad to oblige.” He gestured around the common area, “Not as much stabbin’ around here as you’d think. I get bored.”

Pepper was trying not to smile now, “A discreet stabbing?”

“Sure…. I’m not Steve. Or Tony.” He lowered his voice, “I can be _very_ discreet.”

She walked around the kitchen island and gave him a quick hug, “You’re so sweet.” James got the full effect of a Pepper Potts smile, “Thank you for offering to stab away my problems.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t say you mean it,” Pepper's eyes twinkled with humor.

Now James was grinning too, “Didn’t think I needed to.”

Pepper held her hand loosely over her face, trying to hide her laugh, “You’re terrible.”

“That’s what they tell me.” He tried to look modest and failed. “You want pancakes? I’ll take you to my official post-nightmare eatery.”

She looped her arm in his, “I’d love to James.” As though her strawberry blonde hair wasn’t pulled into the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen, as though no one would be able to tell she’d been crying. Or notice her pajama shorts and tank top.

Well, Betty at the Pancake Shack had seen him looking worse. They went outside. FRIDAY didn’t let him in the garage because there were souped-up vehicles in there that one might use for mayhem. His eyes scanned the parking lot. _Bingo._

“You ride?” He pointed at a large black Harley Davidson motorcycle unattended in the parking lot.

Shrugging, Pepper said, “You only live once, right?” She didn’t sound very convinced – like she might change her mind at any second.

He gave a quick nod and got a closer look at the bike. Why did Steve leave his stuff laying around? Clearly, if Steve didn’t want anyone messing with his bike, he should’ve locked it up. _And not left the key in the ignition… the idiot_. “C’mon.”

“Shouldn’t we have shoes for this? Or helmets?”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Eventually they made it to the Pancake Shack, helmets, shoes and all. Betty took their order – Wednesday nights at 2 AM were not particularly busy.

Pepper started, “So.”

James added, “You wanna talk?”

“About my dream?”

“’Bout whatever.” James jabbed at the ice in his glass. Pepper shrugged and folded into herself, one leg tucked under her and they sat in silence until the food came.

Pepper poked at her slice of peach pie and sighed, “I don’t usually talk about it.”

“The nightmares?” James asked gently.

She nodded and looked up at him, trying to explain, “Tony already feels guilty about so many things that aren’t his fault…. I just couldn’t. And Jim…” Her eyes flicked up when he flinched, “Rhodey… Colonel Rhodes… I don’t know what Tony told him and what he left out.” She sighed, and the lines of her face pulled down until she looked ready to cry again.

James put a few French fries on her plate and she picked one up and tried again, “While you were…?” She faltered.

“V rezident?” He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed and tried again, “In the cold?”

Pepper nodded and paused for a moment, collecting herself before she continued, voice lowered, “Did you hear anything about _Extremis_?”

He thought, but then shook his head, “Not sure.”

“It’s… it’s a different kind of serum.” She shuddered, “They were trying to improve it. Tried to force Tony to help them.”

He saw where this was going now. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” James looked down, trying to figure out what to say next. Deciding to go with the option that let Pepper interpret for herself, he said, “Can I help?”

Shaking her head, Pepper said, “The ones who did it are already dead.” Then she looked up at him and blushed, “Oh. You didn’t mean…”

“Left it open for you… and short so you could say no if that’s what you want.”

And in fits and starts, Pepper quietly described to him how she’d been drugged and kidnapped by Aldrich Killian and Maya Hansen before being injected with the Extremis serum.

As she talked, and he listened they started eating too and it began to feel more like they were having a regular conversation, less like two acquaintances being awkward without their mutual friend smoothing things over. When she explained how Extremis worked and what happened to the people who hadn’t been able to regulate their adrenaline responses, James’ eyes widened.

James sat back, “Well, shit.” He took a bite of pancakes with warm bourbon peach compote and chewed thoughtfully. Mouth still half-full, he asked, “You get that taken care of?”

Pepper was only halfway through her pie, having taken him up on his offer of additional French fries. “Yeah, Tony figured out how to stop the chain reaction before… you know.”

“Boom.”

She nodded.

He sat back, coffee banana malt in-hand. “Well, I can see why you didn’t wanna talk to Tony and the Colonel. That what your dream was about?”

“No… I dreamt that I lost control and I killed both Killian and Tony in the port that night.” Fresh tears spilled over her eyelashes.

Offering Pepper a clean napkin, James considered and then asked, “You think maybe you’re feelin’ guilty about gettin’ married?” Noticing her starting to take offense, he hastily added, “Not that you don’t want to or anything like that – just that maybe your subconscious feels guilty – like you’re worried about figuratively killing him. That you worry he won’t be ok and you’re afraid if he’s not, that’d be your fault?”

She looked at him for a long moment, thinking. When her face relaxed again, she took a long sip of her water and smiled softly, “I think you’re a lot more perceptive than anyone gives you credit for, James.”

He scoffed, finishing his milkshake, “Don’t kid yourself.”

Still, Pepper was _watching_ him now. “Is it true? That you’re taking apart the other arm?”

“Yeah.”

Pepper went on, “Tony mentioned it – he sounded really impressed.”

James shrugged, “Not hard to take something apart. Anybody could do it if they were careful.”

Pepper hummed a thoughtful affirmative. _What was she thinking?_

Betty came to refill their water and offered them coffee. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so… _aloof_ tonight. Also… his pie was missing.

There had been onions on his burger, too. He hated them raw like that. Then he saw it like he was right there again…. His pa’s black lunchbox open on the counter, Ma wrapping his onion sandwiches in waxed paper. Could _smell_ the Brilliantine Pa used in his hair. He tried – _tried_ – to stay calm, to feel present in his adult body.

Bits of memories coming back didn’t usually give him panic attacks. He could smell the furniture polish his mother used – the floor wax too. Remembered having the thought, _‘maybe if I’m very quiet he won’t notice me.’_ Part of his mind could hear his breath coming in ugly, ragged gasps, but he remembered holding his breath. Trying to be soooo quiet…

The heavy fall of his father’s boots on the hardwood. _“Anything you want to tell me, boy?”_ Voice deceptively calm. He _knew…_

He could feel his head shake, both in the present and the past. His chest felt tight. The table in front of him was the nicked-up round wooden one his ma covered with oilcloth tablecloths, but his hand still felt heavy like an adult’s. Could feel the muscles in his arms and hands twitching.

He felt his whole body flinch, hearing the loud _smack_ of George Barnes’ belt slap against the table. _“Only bad boys lie, Jimmy.”_

From the doorway, he heard the door chime open. _That wasn’t right._ Their tenement apartment didn’t have door chimes. Different voices. Not his mother. Not Pa.

“Hands where we can see ‘em!”

That _definitely_ wasn’t right. Blinking, he could see Pepper, looking pinched and pale, glancing between him and the doorway, her hand a vice on his wrist. The tight feeling in his chest loosened and air came rushing back into his lungs. He wiggled his fingers experimentally.

James mumbled, “Izvini… ya vernulsya.” _Sorry… I’m back._ It was true – more or less. He rubbed his forehead with his metal hand. The soft whir of the plates as his arm moved helped ground him in the present.

He surveyed the table. Smooth red tabletop with gold flecks. Like Tony’s armor. He smiled to himself thinking about Tony and looked in the silver tumbler that came with his milkshake to see if he’d forgotten to eat the rest of the ice cream. _No such luck_. No pie either. _Wait…._ Did Betty think he was on a _date_ with Pepper?

He swirled the ice cubes in his glass. Catching motion in the reflection on his glass, he exhaled. James hadn’t had to deal with anybody getting in his face about freaking out in public yet. Then he noticed a prone figure on the floor reflected also. The guy walking up with a gun. Shotgun or small rifle. Non-military.

_‘Rapidity is the essence of war: take advantage of the enemy’s unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes, and attack unguarded spots.’_

Just as the guy got closer, he said, “Hey you!” Whatever else the guy might’ve said stuck in his throat. In one fluid motion, James threw the water in the robber’s face and stabbed him in the thigh with a fork while he brought up his metal hand to cover the muzzle of the gun. _Plastic?! What the fuck?!_

He shoved the guy out of his way, crushing the toy as he made his way to where two others were clearing out the cash register. On instinct, he picked up a steak knife from one of the other tables on his way to the register. Envisioned half a dozen ways to eliminate his targets. _No._ Not in front of Betty… or Adriana, the night cook. He liked Matt the dish washer too.

One palm on the counter and James vaulted over, closing the gap between him and the other two thieves in a couple of steps while cutting off their easiest escape route. They looked up, grinning, expecting to see their friend.

Their faces barely had time for their smirks to falter before James growled out, “Get down.” The two hit the dirt faster than James thought unenhanced people could move. “Ne dvigajtes’.” _Don’t move._

The first guy had stood up and started moving closer, trying to look tough. “There’s three of us and only one of you – you can’t take us all.”

James blinked and tipped his head to the side in disbelief. He heard fingers next to him move and he stomped hard down next to the guilty hand. A muffled squawk from one and a choked sob from the other. Then he twirled the knife – the balance was wrong and that bothered his fingers. Brought the knife down, embedding it to the hilt in the shiny vintage countertop.

The thief who had tried to bully him folded onto the floor of the restaurant. At that point, Pepper took everything else in hand, helping Betty up, making sure the police were called, and talking to them when they arrived. Heard her say something about PTSD to the investigating officers and when the police officers interviewed him, they were very direct, but patient with him.

Paramedics checked out Betty and the restaurant’s other employees. During all this, James didn’t move from the stool at the counter where he’d sat down after the police arrived.

When they left again, Pepper came over and offered him a cold, damp bar towel. “For the back of your neck?”

James nodded, resting his elbows on the counter. “Everybody ok?”

“Everyone’s fine. Just a few bumps and bruises – nothing serious.”

He could feel his eyes sting and the muscle in his lip twitch involuntarily. Covering his face, James took a few long, shuddering breaths, mumbling into his hands, “That coulda gone so wrong.”

Pepper sat next to him, hand on his back rubbing tentatively, “But it didn’t.”

He sniffled, “They were _kids_ , Pepper.” Hoped no one could see his chin wobble. “Felt like they were coming after my family or something.”

She spread her arm across his back and curled him into a half-hug. “You’re a good man, James. You did the right thing, and nobody got hurt.”

James managed to hold it together until Adriana and Betty came to get in on the hug too. Pepper didn’t even have to ask to make sure that no phone videos leaked. Matt, the dish washer, didn’t hug him, but did bring him a glass of water and slice of pie after James composed himself again.

After that, Betty closed the restaurant and they all sat around together chatting and drinking hot chocolate until the sun started blushing the sky dusky purple and rose. When the day crew came in, the restaurant reopened and he, Pepper, and the night crew finally went home.

When they arrived back at the Compound, Pepper asked him, “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?”

“Nah, take a nap. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m willing to clear my day for a friend, James.”

He smiled, “Thanks…” _Wow._ Really? _He_ was the kind of friend Stark Industries’ CEO, Pepper Potts, would clear a day for? James started to politely decline, but reconsidered. 

“You… could you…” He took a deep breath, “I’d like it if you came with me to my BARF session later. I think my nightmare last night and panic attack had something to do with it….”

“You don’t have to do that.”

 _It wasn’t a no._ “I want to – you trusted me…. I didn’t get a chance to tell you about…” James looked up, “But seeing it is different. If it’d make you uncomfortable...” He felt like he was flailing. _Hey, new friend, welcome to the dumpster fire of my mind…_

“When is it?”

“Ten.”

“I’ll be there.” Pepper pulled him in for another quick hug and went back to her room.

His body screamed for sleep, but his mind kept rehashing his nightmare and flashback. The rest of the night’s events too. James found himself in Tony’s workshop with every intention of starting to work again, but DUM-E picked up a blanket from the sofa when James walked in and beeped a question. While he wasn’t sure what exactly DUM-E wanted, James decided maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt anything and laid down on the couch, pulling the thick fuzzy green and navy blue Hulk blanket around him – it wasn’t quite long enough to cover his feet, but too bad. _Beggars, choosers and all that._


	17. Q Is for Quiescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiescence - (n) a state of quiet (but possibly temporary) inaction. 
> 
> Our guys get to be snuggly and cute for a bit... before.... Well, let's just say "before" and leave it at that for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I'm sooo sorry for the delay! I wish I had good excuses, but they're mostly the crappy "I was busy..." kind. :b I really, **really** appreciate your patience! Another big shout-out to my awesome beta, Delphyn! And as always to DemonicReader for helping to clean up my Russian and helping James sound more authentic! :D
> 
> I wanted this chapter to be longer, but also didn't want y'all to have to wait even longer for an update. I am still working on this!! :D
> 
> Anyway, if you have questions, comments, whatever - let me know!! :D Can't say how much I enjoy hearing from you! :D

The weeks leading up to the Potts/Hogan wedding were busy for just about everyone with last minute wedding prep, two calls for the Avengers to assemble (though one was a false alarm), and the general fast-paced of life at the Compound.

James found this mostly convenient because for the most part he was able to avoid unwanted attention while he fixed up the shed. It had lights, its own power source, several possible projects, and a _very_ ugly sofa he got for free from Craigslist.

Also during this time period, Natasha pointed out, quite correctly, that he and Pepper had gone out for pie and coffee before he’d made good on his promise to take _her_ out for coffee. Natasha took him suit shopping for the wedding and somehow he’d ended up with several. She’d just smirked and told him they’d come in handy. He bought her ice cream and coffee – it’d been a really enjoyable day.

Undoubtedly, though, the best parts had been when James had been able to lure Tony away from his other obligations. Somehow looking into those eyes somewhere between the color of dark rum and espresso – depending on the light – made everything else fade away except for the here and now. James didn’t think he’d actually sighed aloud, but Tony gave him a strange look and James managed to pull his eyes away somehow.

One afternoon, he’d dragged Tony to lay in the grass away from the buildings.

Lying in the grass in the sun, holding hands, Tony asked, “So what did you want to do?”

“Eto vse.” _Just this._ James replied.

Tony turned on his side to face James and asked, “You don’t want to talk or anything?”

“Ne seychas.” _Not right now._ He closed his eyes, just feeling Tony’s hand in his, the warmth of his fingers, the slight roughness at the edge of Tony’s thumb.

“Make out?”

James raised an eyebrow, but didn’t open his eyes, replying, “Not right now, moya zhelezochka. Just want to be together.”

Tony huffed, and James couldn’t tell if it was surprise or disappointment. Finally, Tony asked, “Well, can I be together with you… a little closer?”

He let go of Tony’s hand to move his arm and make a space for Tony to curl into. Having Tony’s head on his shoulder and arm draped across his chest was also acceptable. Tony sighed as he settled in, the warmth of the sun making them both languid.

“This is okay too, right?” Tony murmured.

Nose buried in Tony’s hair, James managed a lazy, “M-hm.”

A few long moments later, Tony asked, “Are you smelling my hair again?”

James mumbled into Tony’s hair, “Ty khorosho pakhnesh'.” _You smell good._ It was an understatement, as far as James was concerned, but Tony yawned and nestled in closer.

“If I get sunburned, I’m gonna sue.”

“Noted," James replied, amused.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

James wandered into the workshop periodically during the weeks leading up to Pepper’s wedding. Tony made an effort to remember their usual Pancake Shack dates, but he looked forward to James’ random visits almost more. James didn’t interrupt immediately, listening off to the side to the science discussions or working quietly on the old arm until walking over, and saying quietly, “It’s time to go.”

FRIDAY backed him up when there were protests – either from Tony or from the Science Bros. “It’s been fourteen hours since you left the lab, Boss.” Getting called out like that? So unfair.

One night, though, everyone had gone to bed since the Norwegian contingent was going to be flying to Hawaii for their chance to use the telescope at the Maunakea Observatory. Tony tried to sleep and gave up after a couple of hours. He made his way to the workshop just to kill some time, maybe tinker a bit until the residual caffeine buzz wore off.

The workshop was darkened, as it should be, just a few holoscreens with drabbles of notes and random design ideas – nothing important or that would mean anything to anyone else. The automatic door opened almost silently. Tony moved to the workbench he’d been working at earlier.

Just as he started to get to work again, Tony heard a shuffling sound behind him and turned to see James with the blanket from the shop couch over his head and wrapped around him like an old lady’s shawl.

James grumbled a tired, “Pochemu ty ne spish'?” _Why aren’t you sleeping?_

Tony turned and said, “I could ask you the same thing, WarGames.”

Sitting down on one of the stools near Tony, in the shadows of the holoscreens’ light, James looked a little bit like a crocheted stalagmite. “Keep dreaming bad memories. The dreams start out okay, but then it all kinda goes to hell.” James waved his hand as if to say, ‘whatever.’

Gently, Tony said, “Heard you got through a couple more words, though.”

James shrugged, “Yeah…” He sighed and added, “Guess I just wish some of the stuff HYDRA wiped would’ve stayed gone.”

The way James’ shoulders sagged, Tony wanted to hold him. “You wanna talk about it?” Tony asked.

Poking one arm out from his blanket cocoon, James held out his hand to Tony and said, “Snachala pozvol'te mne obnyat' tebya.” _First let me hold you._

Tony took James’ hand and let himself be pulled in. He could feel the tip of James’ nose tracing a faint line on the side of his neck as the soldier inhaled, then nuzzled in, burying his face between Tony’s shoulder and chin.

Tony didn’t even try to hold back the shiver that ran through him. Nightmares or no, he loved being this close to James. Sliding his hands over the super-soldier’s back, Tony could feel the muscles of James’ back twitch, then start to relax.

James pulled the crocheted couch blanket around them both. A couple of minutes slipped past and James started to speak. “You know the story Steve tells about how he and I first met? Where I run off some idiots pickin’ on him?”

Nodding, Tony said, “Yeah, I heard something like that, I think.”

“Eto nepravda.” _It’s not true._

Tony waited for James to continue.

After taking another deep breath, James continued, “Yeah, first time I met Steve, my ma took me over to the Rogers’ apartment. Heard his mom was a nurse and wanted her to take a look at me.”

Waiting for James to continue, Tony started running his fingers through James’ hair and hugging him a little tighter.

He could feel James chewing his lips before the solider explained, “Took apart my grandfather’s watch and Pa found out before I could put it back together. Got the belt," James paused a moment before continuing, "Steve’s mom let me stay for supper that night. The playground thing happened a few weeks later.” Tony felt James’ throat bob as he swallowed before James went on, “Pa threatened to kill the first guy I kissed. Might’ve done it too if he ever saw him again – ya ne znayu.” _I don’t know._

Pressing kisses into James’ hair, Tony murmured, “I’ve got you now, Snezhinka…” _Snowflake._ He could feel the tightness in his own throat and swallowed, “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

James studied Tony’s face with sharp intensity for a moment before settling back into Tony’s arms. Tony felt the chilly end of James’ nose pressed up against his neck again and closed his eyes.

A while later, hearing the soldier’s breathing evening out into something relaxed and steady, and feeling his own eyes starting to droop, Tony gave James a little poke in the side and said, “Hey, you can’t sleep sitting on the shop stool.”

“Pochemu by i net?” _Why not?_ James replied lazily.

“Because you’ll fall off, Robocop,” Tony replied a little testily.

Shaking his head James murmured, “Ty derzhish' menya.” _You’re holding me up._

Exasperated, Tony said, “James, you know I love you, but I’m not standing here all night while you sleep on me.”

James huffed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Then quit being so comfortable.”

Tony hesitated, then offered, “You could come sleep with me, maybe?” It was supposed to be a statement – an option – but ended up sounding more like a hopeful question.

“Just sleeping?” James asked.

Tony replied, “Yeah. Unless you steal all the covers – then I’ll push you out.”

James slid off the stool and replied, “Da, ok.”

As they walked back to Tony’s apartment, James pulled the afghan tightly around himself again. Tony asked him, “You want me to get that washed?” To Tony, the blanket smelled like his hair after a few days of forgetting to wash it - kind of stale and unpleasant.

Looking affronted, James held the blanket away from Tony and replied, “Nyet.” The rest of the way to Tony’s apartment, he kept glancing at Tony, as if he expected the blanket to be snatched away at any moment.

Before Tony opened the door of his apartment, he turned and looked at James, almost pleading, “Please let me wash it – it’s dusty and kinda stinks, sweetheart.”

James shook his head and mumbled something Tony couldn’t quite catch.

“What? Didn’t catch that,” Tony said, ushering James inside.

Grudgingly, James mumbled, “Won’t smell the same if you wash it.”

Curious, Tony asked, “What’s it smell like to you?”

James looked down, not making eye contact. Tony thought he could see a faint blush, but he couldn’t be sure with all that hair hiding James’ face like a curtain. Still mumbling, James said, “Safety… home….” His stormy blue eyes peeked through his hair, gauging Tony’s reaction.

Relenting, Tony sighed and said, “Fine – I’m not gonna try and steal it from you, WarGames.” He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Inside Tony’s apartment, he finally got the super-soldier to put down the shop couch blanket long enough to crawl into bed. Tony stepped out of his bedroom for a quick drink of water and returned to find James’ face mashed into his pillow, cocooned inside all the blankets. Already asleep.

He tried to worm his way under the covers, but somehow James had managed to tuck all the sides of the blankets underneath him. Tony nudged the fluffy burrito that had taken the place of his boyfriend. Whispering, he said, “Hey, Sarge – let me in. It’s cold out here.”

A long moment passed, and Tony tried to gently wiggle his pillow out from under James’ shoulder when James cracked open his eyes, gave Tony a piercing glare, huffed, and turned over, leaving the edge of the blanket free. Tony crawled in and slid an arm around James’ side. He’d never imagined being the big spoon in their relationship.

James settled back into Tony like a cat – his body relaxing to fill in the gaps between their bodies. The soldier rested his arm on top of Tony’s, wedging it in as though afraid Tony would let go. Tony buried his nose in James’ hair. _Safety and home_ – that’s what James had said the blanket smelled like – and by extension, what Tony smelled like. He lay awake nestled against James, trying to decide what he smelled like.

Almonds… and bay rum… right now James also smelled of sweat, metal, and engine grease. Tony’s mind wandered. What would James do when all the words were deprogrammed? Would he decide to join the Avengers? Maria Hill had already hinted that she thought James would be an excellent instructor for a variety of combat techniques, both conventional and otherwise.

James’ hair felt soft against Tony’s cheek and lips. Maybe James would decide to work as a cook. He’d talked about it more than once since he mentioned his dream. Tony’s throat tightened, and he spread his fingers out against James’ side.

He smelled the metal and engine grease clinging to James hair again. Maybe instead, James would decide to become a mechanic. He’d be a good one, of that Tony had no doubt. The old Hydra arm had been neatly disassembled in less than a week. The ‘unknown’ component had in fact been a device that tracked impact data and other physical statistics about how the arm was used. It’d be useful if Tony decided to build James another arm. FRIDAY seemed to think James still felt some pain – or at least discomfort – with his new arm.

Tony inhaled again and wondered what he’d do when James went on to whatever was next for him. He tried to ignore the prickling feeling in the inside corners of his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything else. A waft of almonds from James’ shampoo triggered another scent memory – the little Italian _amaretti_ cookies his mother used to eat with her coffee. Tony would never be able to eat them again without thinking of both Mom and James. _Please don’t go._ That’s what James smelled like.

He fell asleep some time later, lips against the bump of spine just below James’ neck, nose buried in his boyfriend’s soft, tousled, almond-scented hair. His for now. That would have to be good enough.


	18. R Is for Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite couple is back! :) 
> 
> A glimpse of James' garage and much, much softness. (Also, for those of you sticking around for the other shoe to drop. Hold tight. }:> )

The Potts-Hogan wedding went off without a hitch. The small chapel was ideal for 100 of their nearest and dearest – and had a balcony above where the choir used to sit, which made attending much more comfortable for James. He’d gone on a security walkthrough with Happy and listened as the other man explained the precautions they were taking – even magical protections were in place, apparently.

When James had complimented Hogan on the choice of venue and the security details, he thought if the other man had worn suspenders, he would’ve had his thumbs behind them, stretching them out with pride and rocking on his toes. As it was, Hogan still looked extremely pleased with himself – suspenders or no.

James hadn’t stayed for the reception, even though Tony had asked him to. He wanted to see if James B. Barnes could dance as well as he had in the ‘40s. Tony had seemed disappointed, but understanding when James declined again. Everyone sitting and standing at predictable intervals, the ceremony and ritual of the wedding itself wasn’t too bad, but all the strangers and the comings and goings of photographers, videographers and their assistants, coordinators, and other staff members silently slipping in and out put James increasingly on edge during the course of the day and he needed to get away.

When he arrived back at the Compound, James walked straight back to the garage workshop he’d built for himself. He took off his bow tie and black watered silk suit coat and hung them up on the nails he was using for coat hooks. He thought for a moment and then shed the dress shoes and pants as well, pulling on coveralls over his boxers instead.

Then he got to work. Working with the somewhat repetitive actions in this environment he had the semblance of control over helped him let go of some of the hypervigilance that had built up steadily through the course of the day. James let himself go – letting himself relax into the hundreds of small movements. Currently, he was working on a 1936 Hudson Terraplane, which promised to be _very_ sweet when he was finished.

The quiet and focusing on something other than the things that had bothered him throughout the day were a form of meditation according to his therapist. Now that he remembered, he focused on his breathing as he worked and started to feel more human after about an hour.

Some time later, FRIDAY alerted him that Tony was approaching. James appreciated that she looked out for him that way, though she probably helped the other combat veterans the same way. So when Tony arrived a few minutes later, he found James wiping his hands on a rag.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony walked up to James’ garage. He’d never been there before – mostly because James hadn’t specifically invited him, but also because he really wanted James to have a space of his own – something that was _his_. Tony almost hadn’t come tonight for those reasons, but he needed to make sure James was all right. In the back of his mind, Tony knew if James was really in trouble or unwell that FRIDAY would notify the people identified in his care plan, but Tony wanted to confirm with his own eyes.

Still, he hesitated a moment before knocking. Would James think he was being too mother hennish? Tony knocked anyway, “Hey Robocop – can I come in?”

James looked up and smiled, “Yeah, FRIDAY told me you were on your way. Come on in.”

Tony’s eyes wandered around James’ workshop. The place was definitely more automotive in nature than Tony’s workshop, complete with license plates on the wall and advertisements pinned to the walls. A series of carefully labeled small containers holding a variety of objects occupied a six-foot section of wall. Still, next to the containers, tucked in the back corner, was a work bench with holoscreens hovering above it that could have been lifted from Tony’s own shop.

Then Tony’s gaze fell on James’ wedding clothes hung up and glanced back at his boyfriend in his coveralls. Jacket, pants, shirt, tie… even James’ shoes were all either hung up or clustered together neatly. Tony looked back at the coveralls and stared, trying to figure out if James was wearing anything under them.

Clearing his throat, James asked, “Something I can do for you moya zhelezochka?” _my cute little piece of iron._ He had the nerve to look _amused._

Tony opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finally blurting out, “Are you – ” Tony couldn’t help giving Bucky the once-over… twice. Mouth dry, he tried again, “So, uh… just coveralls, huh?” At least his voice didn’t squeak…

James considered for a moment, then smirked and said, “Podoydi blizhe I uznayesh.” _Come closer and find out._

Tony’s feet seemed to move of their own volition, like James was some kind of magnet. When he was in arms’ reach, James rested his hands on Tony’s hips and drew him in the rest of the way and pressed a firm kiss on Tony’s lips. In a low voice, James said, “Ya skuchal po tebe dorogoy.” _I missed you honey._

Wishing he didn’t turn into a stammering fool quite so easily when James gave him that hooded look and spoke in that low rumble, Tony leaned up to return the kiss, murmuring, “I missed you too, beautiful.”

Eyes closed, Tony felt James’ warm, calloused palm against his cheek, metal hand at Tony’s waist, holding him close. It felt like forever since he’d been in James’ arms like this (untrue – it’d just been earlier that morning before they left for Pepper’s wedding). James had been stingy with the kisses recently, though, and finally being on the receiving end of those plush lips and skillful tongue had Tony’s senses hyper-focused.

James pulled away just a bit and said, “Don’t want to mess up your clothes..”

Tony huffed and wrapped his arms around James, “I don’t care about that,” he grumbled. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Feeling sentimental, sweetheart?” James asked, rubbing his thumb against Tony’s jaw.

“Maybe…” Tony mumbled, a tad defensively. When James didn’t laugh, Tony continued, “You know… ‘cause weddings are kind of romantic…. I was just thinking –” His voice trailed off. _What?_ Where was he going to take that thought? Thinking that maybe I am hopelessly in love with you? That maybe someday… everyone might be there for us – for our wedding? A tiny hope fluttered in Tony’s chest as much as he tried to squash it down.

James brushed his lips against Tony’s forehead. “Ty vsegda dumaesh', lyubov' moya,” he murmured fondly. _You’re always thinking, my love._ Then, Tony saw James’s eyes widen with something between embarrassment and horror as his mouth dropped open. “I didn’t.. I just…”

Tony shook his head, feeling like the fairy wings had been plucked off that tiny hope. “Don’t worry about it. No purchase necessary. No obligations.” He cringed inwardly at his too cheerful tone of voice.

Interrupting Tony’s self-deprecating spiel by pressing a finger to Tony’s lips, James continued his earlier thought in hesitating fits and starts, “I just… always say it first. Wanted to hold out… hear somebody else say it for once.”

Tony studied James’ face. Those grey-blue eyes scanned apparently every single object visible over Tony’s right shoulder. The relaxed expression of a few moments ago was now clouded and… almost ashamed. For an instant, Tony felt too overwhelmed to say anything, but he moved his hands to the sides of James’ neck, thumbs tucked against his jaw. Then his mouth opened, and his thoughts came started tumbling out, “You love me?” gods, he sounded so _dumb_ … “Really?”

James’ eyes snapped to focus on Tony again and he nodded so slightly as to be almost imperceptible.

“All day I was thinking about us getting married.” Tony rambled on, “I mean, you know… someday. Not _now_. At this moment. But you know, maybe someday it’d be all _our_ friends there making _us_ blush making a bunch of sappy speeches. Making fun of how stupidly, disgustingly, hopelessly in love I am with you.”

Still, James said nothing, his face unreadable.

Only his anxiety and the fact he’d kept these feelings bottled up for so long kept Tony’s mouth from running out of steam now that he’d started talking. “You know why it took me so long to write that stupid speech? Because all those quotations and things that are supposed to be helpful reminded me of _you_. I mean, ‘Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come…?’ ‘My true love hath my heart, and I have his. By just exchange, one for the other given?’ Come on… that’s _us_. Or me… thinking about us…” Tony opened and closed a couple of times, but his throat tightened and he couldn’t squeeze anything else out. The seconds seemed to stretch forever, each its own little eternity. Why didn’t James say anything?

Finally, _finally,_ Tony felt the rumble of James’ voice through the palms of his hands, still cupping his boyfriend’s face. James recited, “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love,” and pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips.

Tony sniffled, he’d managed not to tear up all day and his emotions were all over the place right now, so slightly – barely – sniffly wasn’t too bad all things considered. He mumbled, “Stars _aren’t_ made of fire.”

James laughter bubbled through the room, not its usual huff or chuckle… more like the time when Clint was cursing that someone ate all the Hot Pockets and left the empty box in the freezer. Trying to stifle a… giggle? Was his boyfriend, James Barnes, _the Winter Soldier_ … giggling? James asked, “What about incandescent gas?” then snickered again.

“Snowflake,” Tony sighed as he shifted his arms around James’ neck and nestled in closer, smiling hard enough to make his mouth ache, but hiding it in James’ chest, the hope inside him revived. “We’ve had this talk already. The sun is ‘a miasma of incandescent plasma. Forget what you’ve been told in the past.’”

They had, in fact, had a conversation about the composition of stars when James tried to talk Tony through a panic attack not that long ago. Amusement still audible in his voice, James said, “You know I like it when you talk science to me.”

Tony inhaled the scent of James’ cologne that he’d worn for the wedding that mingled now with the tang of metal and just a hint of almonds behind them. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Tony said fondly. “Before – was that Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, _Hamlet_ , if I remember right.” James agreed. “A chto?” _What?_

“Never had anyone recite poetry for me,” Tony purred.

“Yeah? Memorized a lot of stuff as a kid. Think I know ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ too, but that’s not so romantic.” James replied with a small frown. When Tony laughed, James asked, “Wanna go inside? Might be able to think of some more,” he said, eyebrows raised in invitation.

“I might be able to think of a few things we could instead do if you don’t…” Tony suggested, licking James’ lower lip, then kissing him slowly.

After a long kiss, James said, “Sounds kinda win-win to me,” letting his lips brush against Tony’s jawline as he spoke. “Guess we’ll just hafta see what happens then, huh?”

Tony hummed in agreement and, model of restraint that he was, he did _not_ drag James out of his workshop by the wrist. Instead, they turned out the lights and walked back to the residential side of the Compound, James’ arm slung over Tony’s shoulders and Tony’s arm around his boyfriend’s waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long.. and I wish I had great excuses, but I don't.... I DO intend to finish this and I DO know what's going to happen in the remaining chapters, so please be patient with me and don't fret. :)
> 
> Also, the things Tony quotes from are in order of appearance, 1) Clementine von Radics, "Mouthful of Forevers," 2) Sir Philip Sidney, "[My True Love Hath My Heart](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45169/song-from-arcadia-my-true-love-hath-my-heart-)," and 3) They Might Be Giants, "Why Does the Sun Really Shine? (The Sun Is a Miasma of Incandescent Plasma)."
> 
> James quotes Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ , Act 2, Scene 2; 2) They Might Be Giants, "Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas), and 3) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "[The Wreck of the Hesperus](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44654/the-wreck-of-the-hesperus)."
> 
> The car James is working on, the 1936 Hudson [Terraplane](http://secondchancegarage.com/articles/1936-terraplane/front.jpg) for reference. 
> 
> As always, thanks to my terrific, understanding, patient beta @Delphyn and to @rebelmeg for their cheering and encouragement too.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first stab at WinterIron (one of my favorite ships that doesn't involve Darcy Lewis, lol!). I'm hoping these chapters will be a little shorter than my other fics. This one is not related to the series fics at all! 
> 
> Translated text is bracketed if the other character can't understand it. Russian isn't one of my languages, so I blame Google and Bing translate for my errors - please forgive me and feel free to call them out and I'm glad to fix them.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments! Nothing's written in stone. :D


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